


For I Came to Love an Enemy.

by tube_socks_are_cool



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Relationships, Blood and Injury, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Canonical Character Death, Death Eater Draco Malfoy, Death Eaters, Dumbledore's Army, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Family Issues, Fidelus charm, Forgiveness, Found Family, Friendship, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Horcruxes, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Magic, Male-Female Friendship, Mental Health Issues, Minor Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Oblivious Harry, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Harry Potter, POV Multiple, Panic Attacks, Past Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Patronus Charm (Harry Potter), Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Redemption, Scars, Sharing a Room, Slow Burn, Slug Club, The Burrow (Harry Potter), The Golden Trio, Torture, Touch-Starved, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Violence, father figure remus, found family trope
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26862550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tube_socks_are_cool/pseuds/tube_socks_are_cool
Summary: Harry's face was nicked and scratched in the photograph; the Headmaster was bracing him up, a hand squeezing into his shoulder. The headline praises him a hero and in the same issue declares Draco's father a murderer and a criminal. The insult is sometimes too much, the first time he saw it he hexed everything in his room.Later, when his fingers are still curled around the cuff of his left wrist. He can no longer deny to himself, it was his fault just as much as it was Potter’s. He's certain of this and it burns him up from the inside out. His hatred for himself battled only with his hatred for the other boy. Draco isn’t sure if what he wants is actually his dad home from Azkaban or not. It's more the principal of the thing. And under normal circumstances- he shuddered closing his eyes- well, nothing was normal any more. Under normal circumstances he'd almost prefer it this way, if it was just him and his mom. His left arm throbs painfully reminding him that it isn't like that and it may never be again.(In which Draco goes into hiding along side Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys after a traumatizing summer that leads to him being rescued from his family's manor. Where can they go when Hogwarts isn't safe?)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Remus Lupin & Draco Malfoy
Comments: 25
Kudos: 102





	1. Prologue

* * *

* * *

Prologue-

Summers at Malfoy Manor were never meant to feel as cold as this one had. Draco couldn’t pretend he wasn’t aware of the icy tension spreading its way into every room of the mansion but he could blame it on his father’s absence for the first couple months he was not home. He held his mom’s hand as she cried over her husband’s photograph in the prophet and spent _every_ other waking minute despising Potter for his part in this. 

“I’ll kill him.” He hissed under his breath to himself one night with the prophet clutched in his hand, tears streaming down his nose. His father’s face stared back at him, gaunt and watery upon hearing his Azkaban sentencing. Hatred welled up in him and he wasn’t sure who it was meant for at this moment his father, the infamous _chosen one_ , or both. He tore the parchment up with both hands. 

His aunt Bellatrix haunted the mansion that summer like a ghost, turning corners and disappearing somewhere in the house with other flowing back figures before he can catch them. With his father gone, it left a position empty of someone to host their fellow death eaters and she happily filled it for the dark lord. Draco wasn’t invited to any of their meetings especially the ones where _he_ was in attendance, his mother hadn’t allowed it at first. Eventually, though, her motherly intuition hadn’t been enough to protect him from evil’s interest. 

“He requires your presence, Draco.” Bellatrix told him, a dangerous smile curling her lips. 

“Tell me why Bella? What did he say?” His mum pleaded, small hand already clasped over his shoulder. 

Draco despite his fear wanted to forcibly wipe the smirk from his aunt’s face when she looked over at her sister with the sympathy of a dung beetle. His voice quivered “Why me?”

This was pointedly ignored by her. 

“It is an honor, Cissy.” She said instead, taking her sister’s hand in her own. “It is a second chance to make up for Lucius’ failure at the Ministry and redeem yourselves!”

Narcissa regarded her coldly. “Luscious wasn’t the only one at the Ministry.”

Bellatrix let go of her hands, eyes flashing. She twitches for her wand and Draco steps between them before things can go any further.

“Stop it!” He says loudly to distract them, voice cracking with emotion. “It’s me he wants to see, isn’t it? So take me to him.”

Bellatrix nods triumphantly and leads him deeper into their house. His mother doesn’t let him get more than a few steps in front of her by taking him by his elbow but he tugs it out of her grip before she can get the words out. “ _Leave me_.”

“Never.” She replies quietly but doesn’t try to dissuade him again. He doesn’t mean to brush off her concern but if she treats him like he’s made of glass right now then he’s going to shatter all over their family carpet. He is trembling when his aunt reaches the end of a long corridor and tugs a door open, she bows him in mockingly. His mother follows loyally at his heels as he carefully enters the room. His wand is in his back pocket, he’s hyper-aware of it pressing against him through the fabric. He tries to stow these thoughts somewhere deep inside where they won’t be found as his eyes find the back of an olive green armchair. A figure irradiates darkness from the seat facing a roaring fireplace built into the wall opposite of them. His deep grey cloak folds over the armrests, one thin hand holds his wand and the other trails over the scales of the snake settled beside him.

“ _Yes, shut the door. I have been waiting for you, Draco_.”

* * *

Draco can’t stop the silent sobs as they bubble out of him and cradles his left arm to his chest. He pushes his sleeve up, and he knows his father is in Azkaban and people are dying, worse things were happening to people right now, but he can’t breathe when he looks down and sees it, fresh and raw: black ink stark against his irritated pink skin. He sobs harder, biting down on his knuckles to quiet the sound. 

He knows the only reason his mother isn’t at his side right now is because _that bitch_ of an aunt of his had her barred from his door after the ceremony. 

Draco had stayed somewhat composed during the process; his nose ran a little when he began to understand why he was there, why exactly the dark lord had called him before him but he caught on quickly and numbed himself as fast as possible. He could almost feel his mom’s panic rising as she surely began to figure it out too and he blocked it out because he couldn’t think of her right now. Not everyone could be like her; she was the solitary death eater without the mark. Draco, well, he never had a chance.

He remembered the dark lord’s grip on his arm, how the sight of his yellowed nails digging into his skin made him feel sick, the pressure of the wand dipping into his wrist, and more sobs wracked his body.

The process had hurt of course; it was meant for only the most devoted to want it seared into their flesh. He had expected it to be painful but he didn’t expect it to persist and sting so much, like a part of his flesh was taken from his arm and sewn back in all wrong. 

He pulled his sleeve back over his skin, not being able to stand the sight any longer. _I was chosen,_ he tried to reason with himself. But the part of his thoughts he could never rid himself of whispered, _so was my father_.

He remembered what the dark lord had said mere hours earlier. “ _You know your place, don’t you? You are your father’s son, aren’t you, Draco?”_

Draco huffed out a breath, he reached under his bed and brought out the creased page of the prophet he’d repaired and destroyed many times now with magic. He stared at his father’s flickering face in the image; he flipped the page carefully over between his fingers until it was Potter’s face blinking up at him. 

The boy’s face was nicked and scratched in the photograph; the Headmaster’s bracing him up with a hand squeezing into his shoulder. The headline praised him as a hero and in the same issue declares his father a murderer and a criminal. The insult was sometimes too much, he remembered how the first time he saw it he had hexed everything in his room. His mother had come in, her disapproval deepened by her own grief, took one glance at the wreckage of his things and fixed it all up with a flick of her wand. She hadn’t held it against him, even when he thought she should have. 

Glaring at Potter’s face, he realized in bewilderment that he was yearning for the times when he and his mother were the only ones truly aware of the despicable nature of her husband, and when the Malfoy family name was still spoken with a sense of virtue and esteem. That illusion had been shattered and regardless of what those days had been like, they seemed like the golden age in comparison to the shit-hole his life had become and dreading on it like this only served to torture him further. 

Draco's chest heaved; he wondered _if this is what he deserves._ What his mum had said to his aunt earlier was right. His father wasn’t the only person who had failed the day his father led an attack inside the department of mystery. 

He’s no longer crying. The tears have stopped coming, _thank god_ , he shoves the page under his pillow, and with his face pressed into the sheets- his spent heart has only room for shame and dread.

Sure, Draco hadn’t known anything about his father’s plan that year nor the dark lord’s scheme for that matter so he couldn’t have known. But he wondered what may have happened if he and the other’s on the Inquisitorial Squad hadn’t of lost Potter’s little squad of misfits that day, what might have occurred if there hadn’t of been so many of them who went on to fight in the Department of Mystery? Maybe something would have been different. At least that’s what his father had implied in the last letter he’d sent him just before he was imprisoned. 

His fingers are still curled around the cuff of his left wrist and his grip tightened painfully at the thought. Whatever his father said, it was his fault just as much as it was Potter’s. This he was certain of and it burned him up from the inside out. His hatred for himself battled only with his hatred for the other boy. Draco didn’t know if what he wanted was his dad home from Azkaban or not. It was more the principal of the thing. And under normal circumstances- he shuddered, closing his eyes- well, nothing was normal anymore. 

Exhaustion overwhelmed him quickly and he couldn’t even find the strength to worry about what’s in store for him in the morning. He knows deep down that this is what was always expected of him and with two months longer of the summer holiday in store before he could escape back to Hogwarts there’s nothing he can do. He was a Death Eater now and that meant his life was not his own. 

* * *

The summer was almost over; mere weeks from what will be the start of his sixth year when his mum doesn’t turn up for dinner during the evening. His aunt Bellatrix and Dolohov do, stalking into the room and sitting in the chairs on either side of him. Dolohov grinned menacingly and helped himself to a turkey leg biting into it sloppily with his front incisors. Bellatrix slid her deranged gaze between him and Dolohov; she plucked up the wine glass in front of Draco and swished it around in her hand. 

Draco is fuming and fed up with their charade by the time Dolohov plopped a pile of potatoes onto the silver plate meant for his mom. "Where is she? What have you done to her!?”

Dolohov looked at him over his potatoes and slowly shoveled some into his mouth with his fingers. 

“WHERE IS SHE!?” He snapped, slamming his hands down on the table. His voice trembled and Bellatrix mocked him for it instantly, screwing up her face in exaggerated emotion. 

“Where iS she?” She made a face and gestures at him with her glass. “Have some pride, sweetie. I mean really, didn’t daddy teach you not to grovel?”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed Dolohov helping himself to even more potatoes. Regarding Draco, he made a show of licking the plate clean. Draco lost it. He knocked the obnoxious death eater’s plate across the table out of reach when he goes for another turkey leg. “I don’t give a _fuck_ about pride. What have you done with my mother?”

A hand collided with Draco’s jaw and Dolohov is poking his wand into his cheek threateningly, his other hand pushing him back against his chair, before he’s able to process the pain. “You’ve done it now, boy!”

Draco reached for his own wand, his hand almost to the inside pocket of his jumper when his Aunt speaks up. 

"Stop this!” Bellatrix scolded; the death eater’s grip tightened as if contemplating the consequences of ignoring her but eventually dropped away. Dolohov scowled at Draco as he took his seat once again."If the Dark Lord sees your weakness-“

“Oh, he’d laugh.” Dolohov rumbled, looking over Draco as he did a dramatized version of brushing off the front of his shirt. He leaned toward him across the table, spearing his fork into the glazed wood. “He couldn’t have chosen anyone better. You’ll be dead by the end of the year.”

“Hold your tongue!” Bellatrix hissed and he leaned back in his seat, hands spread in surrender. Draco’s hand shook from where it white knuckled his wand. His aunt’s eyes traveled to his pocket and she finally regarded him coolly at this. “Cissy is fine. She’s been… otherwise occupied. Her opinion on what we have to discuss wasn’t needed.”

Draco is taken aback, he stuttered quietly. “W-wasn’t needed?”

She lay her cold fingers over the top of Draco’s left hand and it’s everything he can do not to shudder in disgust when she kept them there. “Now, sweetie you have been gifted with a most special opportunity!”

“Right.” Dolohov smirked.

She whipped around on him, raising her voice to a violent level. “SILENCE, PIGHEAD!”

He didn’t even bat an eye, just bowed his head and waved for her to continue. Bellatrix drew her lips back and gripped Draco’s fingers a little tighter. She faced him. “The Dark Lord has given you a wonderful chance. If you do this, Draco, your family will be forgiven and honored beyond what happened at the ministry.”

Thoughts of what he may have to do and memories of what he has already been made to do over the past two months flood his mind. 

“Spit it out.” He said as numbly as possible, he didn’t allow his face to portray a thing. 

His aunt’s lips pull back into a snarl-like smile, her fingers drifted from his hand to curl tightly around his wrist almost as if reminding him of the mark tattooed into his skin just below her fingertips. “ _You_ are to kill Albus Dumbledore.”

* * *

Draco was bleeding out in the cellar of his family’s mansion. He’s laying on the grimy floor, curled around himself like it could’ve protected his middle when they were casting spells at him. It couldn’t.

“Mum?” He croaked into the silent dark room. His voice is barely loud enough for even him to hear it over the constant drip of the busted wine barrels in the corner. There wasn’t any hope that she would hear him or that she would be able to come to his aide, he knew this. This wasn’t like his father’s punishments and his mom couldn’t protect him from this one either. Still, her name slipped past his dry lips again if only as an act to keep him present. “Mum.”

His body ached from curses and spells unknown. He squeezed his eyes shut against the fear that threatened to consumes him and the sob building in his throat. His clothing felt soaked through with blood and he’s not sure where each wound actually was because his whole body felt torn into and he was wrought with pain. His mind wandered as he tried to keep himself awake; naturally, it drifted over the past twenty-four hours.

His initial shock and refusal were met by threats of death on himself and every member of his family, including Bellatrix he had guessed, judging from the purpling bruises that circled his left wrist. Then, Dolohov had craned his neck and told him that he had better accept or he would watch his mother die first. Draco had wavered, but sensing this, Dolohov’s face melted into a smug expression. Wanting to rub salt into a raw situation, his ugly teeth bared in a large grin, said that _even if Draco_ accepted the challenge they were going to have to ensure his mother was held away from him as “insurance” until he completed his task. 

_That hadn’t gone well_ , Draco clutched the right side of his chest remembering. He’d attacked Dolohov and gotten stupefied before he could do any real damage, he fell into the table and onto the floor in that order. The kick to his ribs had been aimed at him just before the spell that knocked him out. 

He woke in his room and thinking back on it now, every stupid thing he did next was why he was in this position in the first place. His mind had been all over the place when he woke up, scrambling, desperate for any kind of idea that could spare him and his mom from the wrath of the dark lord when Draco surely failed the task set by him. Who could he possibly turn to? At that moment, thinking wildly, he had recalled what the Hogwarts Headmaster had said to him at the end of the year before he’d ridden the train home and this nightmare of a summer had begun. 

“I _must impress upon you the importance of the knowledge that you are not alone, Draco. With what this following year may bring it seems this especially needs to be said, Voldemort does not truly win until he makes us believe we have no one else.”_ The headmaster had said directing at him the same wise gaze he had always felt inferior under. “ _Just some food for thought_.”

Draco scrapped his knuckles against the stone floor and gritted his teeth angrily at the hot tears springing up behind his eyelids. _Fucking liar, ancient, disgusting, hypocrite!_ He wished he could scream at Dumbeldore, curse at at him. _It’s your fault I’m here! It’s all yours, you demented bastard!_

He had given up believing hours ago that any kind of help was coming. His floo conversation with the Headmaster wasn’t enough to bring the cavalry in for him or his mother. Despite everything Draco had told them about the dark lord’s assassination plan it must not have been enough. Not enough to redeem him or to make it worth sending Dumbledore’s _precious_ order out on a rescue mission. Despite that it had been his only request.

“Please, Headmaster. I’ll tell you everything, just swear to me you’ll save her.” 

He had never hated the headmaster more than he did now, sure that as soon as he had tipped him off he’d gone back to drinking tea while Draco was tortured by his aunt Bellatrix and the other death eaters after Dolohov had discovered him ending the floo call. 

He hated all of them, needing deeply someone to blame, and he found it fit nicely on the shoulders of The Order and everyone who had ever associated with them. They pretended to be so righteous it disgusted him, when really they were as selfish and unforgiving as the people they thought they were so very different from. 

Regardless, Draco’s mouth twitches into a small self-satisfied grin, blood and saliva bubble up around his teeth. He feels a hint of pride for not folding. The death eaters didn’t get anything out of him, those assholes had otherwise no idea who he’d contacted and what he’d told them. 

_Maybe,_ he thought tiredly as he drifted deeper into his own head, _he’ll remember what I did and when the time comes they’ll get her out_. It’s a weak sentiment even he has to admit but he’s shivering, starting to fade in and out, and he really didn’t want to die for nothing. 

The mice are his only company and their chatter urged him to stay awake. He tried to draw his to mind something, _anything,_ to invoke feeling in him. Potter’s face appeared in his mind and he groaned exasperatedly digging his forehead into stone. Perhaps anything _else?_ He thought and yet he purposefully fanned the flames of anger growing in his stomach as if it’ll keep him warm, picturing the other boy’s irritating green eyes. 

_Boom._ The floor wavered beneath him as a loud noise echoed from the Manor above, the walls hummed as dust trickled down from the ceiling. It fell over Draco’s still form. He started to hear voices at the top of the stairs, low whispering like a draft, it caused goosebumps to rise along his skin. He knew it was the death eaters coming back for more and he’s too weak to move, he’s resigned to lay where he is drenched in sweat. More whispered voices and then-the sound of dueling broke out, voices shrieked somewhere far off, closer-there’s scuffling and the sound of a body being thrown down the stairs. 

“Filthy blood traitors! Wretched half-bloods!” His aunt’s distant screams reached his ears. "I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you!!” 

Draco never saw who the body belonged too, the last thing he heard before he lost himself to merciful, terrifying sleep, was the caged door of the cellar being blown off its hinges. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *author's note* Hi, I am trying my hand again at this story! I hope the prologue is compelling and you enjoyed reading it. My draft for this story isn't completed but my outline is so the story will be coming along as I finish editing and writing it. I'll try to post consistently at least once a week, so check back again for new chapters soon! :D  
> I have a Pinterest board for this story which you can find: https://pin.it/1YGFkUr


	2. Enter as my Enemy,

**Chapter one** -

Harry was starting to feel alright about how the sun was shining today. The sky gave off a brilliant shade of blue and listening to the birds chirping melodically he found he could almost enjoy it for the first time since Sirius had died and he’d gone to live with the Dursley’s again over the summer. It was perfect weather for the middle of July but despite this, not one of the residents that inhabited the Burrow was outside. Almost all of them were sitting in the lounge. Hermione was frowning over the latest copy of the daily prophet, Ron was playing a game of chess with his sister Ginny, and Fred and George could be heard from their bedroom upstairs making such a racket they were no doubt working on a new product for their shop. Mr. Weasley was still at work after having rushed off early this morning muttering something about a grandfather clock attacking a bunch of muggles. Mrs. Weasley had worried over him as he left and was now sitting in her arm chair, her knitting sitting untouched in her lap and her eyes watching the clock in the washing basket wearily. The little metal hands on the clock had been frozen on "mortal peril" nearly all summer and she was terrified every time one of them left the house.

Harry couldn't blame her, sitting with his back pressed against the wall and facing towards the window. He wasn't sure if he was pretending to look out the window or not but he was glad that ever since he had decided on sitting here no one had disturbed him. The one thing on his mind he was trying very hard to ignore kept creeping in again as a constant bother. It did help that his friends had either finally realized that he didn't want to talk about it or seemed to have grown bored of the subject. Sirius Black had died several months ago and most of his friends had decided that what he needed right now was space and they were giving it to him. 

As Harry let his gaze refocus on what was outside of the window he thought he saw a purple ripple run across the invisible dome of protection charms that surrounded the burrow. He shifted instantly moving closer to the window, his mouth dropping open in a silent warning. Several figures appeared on the lawn at once. Many of them were too far to see clearly but the person closest to the Burrow turned around and Harry recognized him. 

With a breath of relief, Harry turned to Mrs. Weasley."It's Mad eye. People from the order are here."

Mrs. Weasley frowned slightly as if thinking."I don't remember there being a meeting today?" She fumbled with the knitting on her lap. In a flurry of sudden movement, Fred and George apparated downstairs colliding with Ginny as they all rushed towards the door.

"Who cares?" Ron said grinning. "At least now we'll have something to do. I reckon I'll ask Mundungus what he's been up to."

Mrs. Weasley looked extremely disapproving of that suggestion but before she could say so he was already turning away and strolling towards the others.

Hermione rolled the daily prophet back up and turned to Harry. "Do you think Tonks is with them? I've been thinking of asking her-“

A scream pierced the air and Ginny wheeled backward from the door which she had just thrown open, a hand over her mouth, her face pale. Fred and George's smiles fell off of their faces as Order members began appearing through the door. Mad eye Moody appeared first looking grim, then Tonks whose hair was still mousy brown, and then Kingsley and a few others Harry wasn't as familiar but all of them looked stony and urgent. 

He craned his neck, not understanding the reason for Ginny’s terrified scream when Remus came through the door until Harry felt sick as he realized with a lurch that he was carrying someone, a boy. Bright red soaked the boy’s clothing and stood out against the pale of his skin and startling blonde of his hair, the boy looked familiar and suddenly Harry felt very wrong thinking it. That couldn't be? That broken, bleeding thing there couldn't be Malfoy?

He felt himself climb to his feet in a trance. Malfoy wasn’t moving. 

"Molly, to be frank with you something's happened, and here's not the place to discuss it." Moody growled looking around. "The Burrow isn’t safe anymore; we need to get you and your family out of here, Potter and Granger too. They’re coming for him.”

Harry felt his heart sink, he’d somehow gotten his hand into his pocket and wrapped around his wand. A dangerous part of himself argues, _let them come_.

"Yes, but Alastor-" Mrs. Weasley began, eyes darting over Harry for a split second. She folded her shaking hands.

"No time, Molly." Tonks said as kindly as possible, wrapping an arm around her. "We've got to get everyone to safety." Mrs. Weasley nodded looking faint but it was as if someone had flicked a switch on the rest of them because suddenly the members of the order were stepping up to them and disapparating on the spot. 

Harry was only half-listening, as his friends disappeared around him he’s scrambling to step past them as they blink out. He’s making his way across the room but before he can make it to Remus he disapparated taking that injured boy- _Malfoy_ -with him. Kingsley apparated with both Ron and Hermione seconds before Mrs. Weasley does so with her arm around Ginny.

"Come on, Potter." Moody growled hauling Harry from where he is frozen to the floor. The last of the Order members vanished all around them.

"What's happening? Was that, was that Malfoy?" Harry asked but Moody just grunted in response and gripped his arm tightly.

Harry for the third time in a week felt his stomach drop out from under him as the world turned to a swirl of color. Before several seconds had passed his feet hit solid ground again and the room stopped spinning wildly out of control. Moody let go of him and Harry grabbed onto the edge of something- a small coffee table to steady himself, his eyes quickly raked in his surroundings. 

Fred, George, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron were in the same room looking just as disorientated. Remus and Malfoy were nowhere to be seen. It appeared to him as if they were in someone's lounge, a large room with several armchairs and a sofa which took up some of the space. The walls were covered in grey wallpaper and the place didn't look much lived in judging by the layer of dust lining the fireplace.

"Now will you tell me, what’s going on?" Harry gritted out in Moody’s direction as soon as he could speak again. He rubbed the spot on his arm where the older wizard had most likely left a bruise.

"Not now Potter. Stay where you are and don't go snooping around." He ordered with narrowed eyes before limping off and out of the room along with the rest of the Order. Some cast apologetic looks on their way out but none stopped to offer an explanation, not even Mrs. Weasley who was being guided out of the room by a soothing Tonks.

"Tonks!" Hermione called desperately. "Would you please tell us where we are and what’s happening?"

"I’m sorry, Hermione." She said sympathetically, glancing over her shoulder. "Mad-eye's orders. On my honor, we'll fill you in later but we're having a meeting now."

Tonks patted Ginny on the back kindly on her way out of the door after noticing how shaken she was. Ginny smiled weakly. As soon as she was gone and they were alone Fred and George whirled toward Harry.

"Did you hear them? Treating us like a bunch of kids, they are!” Fred complained and Harry can’t help but nod while staring at the door Tonk’s had shut behind her. 

“It’s disrespectful is what it is. I mean, that had to be about half the order!" George remarked unable to hide his astonishment. He plops down on one side of a sofa, running a hand through his hair. “And none of them shot us a second glance! I mean, we’re of age! What are they playing at?”

"Well, they weren’t exactly thinking about who is and isn’t of age, were they? Didn’t you see them? Judging by the state of their robes they were in a duel of some sort." Hermione spoke up, looking flustered as her eyes nervously flitted over to Harry amongst the others. He nods helpfully but he doesn’t have anything to add, she’s right of course. 

"And they had Malfoy with them." Harry doesn’t mean to say this aloud but once he does he feels a bit better, less wound up by what he had seen- or hadn’t. 

Ginny nodded meaningfully and her face said it all, under her freckles she was still a pale as moaning myrtle, herself. "I saw him, he looked _bad_. Remus was carrying him. Guys, he was bleeding everywhere.”

Harry’s heart sank, yet he’s thankful for Ginny finally saying something to confirm that he hadn’t just imagined it. What he had witnessed earlier had punctured a hole in his stomach. At the sight of the blonde-haired boy with them he felt like he had been internally knocked off balance and now that he had time to catch his breath and think, his thoughts seemed to be out of his control. 

A strange mixture of emotions rose in him when he thought of the Malfoy’s but the one that came out on top was most often gut-wrenching anger. _Lucius_ had been there the night Sirius had died and Malfoy, well, if he wasn't already a death eater by now like his father then he was as good as guilty by association.

Despite this, he felt ill thinking about the sight of Draco Malfoy’s limp body held up by Remus and he wondered bewilderedly, _how was he so badly wounded and how did he end up here with them wherever it is they are_?

"I don’t want to sound like a prick, but really, who cares?" Ron said hesitantly, looking exuberant as he broke the silence. "I mean its Malfoy, am I right? Whatever happened he probably deserved it and he’ll be fine, the git. The others will fix him back up in a minute, there’s no point in getting worked up about it.”

"Ron, you shouldn’t talk like that. We don’t know _what_ was wrong with him.”Hermione softly scolded, her brows furrowed in empathy for their injured nemesis. The expression Ron made in response was comical.

"Oh sod off Hermione." He rolled his eyes, turning to Harry. "There are better questions to be asking, mate, like where have they taken us and why?"

Suddenly, he became very aware that he didn't have anything on him except his wand which was stuck in his pants pocket and the clothing he had on his back. Hermione, who had calmed down a little since they had arrived, now began pacing again looking thoroughly put off.

"I don't have any of my books! I wonder what we’ll do about our school work, spell books, quills, and clothes." Hermione inquired, her nervousness seemed contagious to the others. Except Ron who just shook his head, looking at Harry with wide-eyes probably wondering how she could be thinking about books at a time like this.

Ginny frowned. "Do you think that’ll be an issue, then? We’ll have to go back before the start of term, won’t we?"

"If we had to leave the Burrow because it was unsafe, who knows how long it’ll be before we’re able to go back.” Hermione responded quietly. “It looked rather serious."

"What about Dad!?" Ginny cried out, this epiphany striking her out of nowhere. She looked between her older siblings for an answer. 

Fred nudged her in an attempt to comfort her. "Don't worry Ginny. I'm sure the order will tell him where we're at and he'll join us as soon as he can."

The room is quiet for a moment while they collectively wonder when Arthur Weasley will be made aware of his family’s whereabouts and whisked to safety like they were. 

"Oh no, I left Pig." Ron groaned, mind already wandering off. "And Harry you left Hedwig."

"Of course you both left your owls," George said looking annoyed. "we were being apparated at a seconds notice. There’s no way you could have had the time to go after your bloody owls." 

Harry wasn't listening; instead he's fretting on the whereabouts of his own owl. Hedwig had gone out hunting yesterday night and he didn’t like the thought of Hedwig coming back to an empty Burrow. What would she do when she realized Harry wasn't there? Hedwig had found her way back to him before without knowing where to go, Harry only hoped she had the common sense to bring Pig with her. Pig would probably just zoom around the Burrow hopelessly until someone came to fetch him.

Harry completely tuned out of the conversation after that and made his way over to another one of the dusty armchairs. He sank into it feeling as if he had a headache coming on. This entire experience starting from the Order bursting into the Burrow and being repeatedly brushed off earlier until now had all of the repressed anger and confusion inside of him stirred into a mess. He felt like he was going to burst soon if no one came to answer his questions.

It was a long time before anyone arrived to explain anything to them and whilst Hermione and Ginny had calmed enough and were talking quietly, among them, Fred, George, and Ron had begun arguing loudly over something. The entire time Harry just sat and boiled in his feelings thinking of everything he was going to say when The Order and Mrs.Weasley came back.

When the door creaked open and Remus entered, Harry forgot all of them and instead jumped to his feet in holy desperation.

"Remus!" Harry said at the same time that Ginny scrambled up to ask about her dad. This sobered him for a moment, wanting to know just as much as she did if Mr. Weasley was aware of their whereabouts. His eyes found the drying blood on the undershirt the older man was wearing. His stomach twisted itself into a knot.

Remus gave them all a tired smile. "It’s wonderful to see you all again. I wish it was under better circumstances, as it is, Arthur will be here shortly. Tonks has gone to inform him of our, er, situation. Momentarily, I’m here to let you know you are in one of the Order's safe houses. A while ago Dumbledore had it put into motion to create several of these in case any one of our member’s homes were compromised and they needed to go into hiding."

"Is that what’s happened?” Harry asks some-what heatedly. “What about Malfoy, was his home _compromised_ too? What happened to him?”

Remus’ expression changed. “I’m not at liberty to say much but yes, Draco will need someplace safe to stay when he recovers.”

"But he lives with a family of death eaters!" Ron said looking scandalized. "How are we supposed to be safe when we've got one of them under the same roof as us?"

"Draco Malfoy is not a death eater, if he ever was he most certainly is not one now." He spoke carefully as if treading on dangerous ground. "Albus Dumbledore is preventing me from saying anything else about the situation yet except that it is required of all of you to _stay here_."

“Hey now, we’re of age,” Fred argues. “we have a shop to run! You can’t just expect to keep us here with no information at all.”

Remus sighed deeply, running his hand over his scarred face. “Your parents are of age as well and both understand that this is the safest place for you all right now. Listen to me; you do not want to be out there on your own at the moment.”

"That’s rich. I think we deserve to know what’s going on just as much as Mum does! I'm sure you've already filled her in, yeah!?" George challenged, and Fred nodded along as if proving that this was a particularly sound argument. Remus didn’t bend under the gaze of either of them.

"Fred, George, It’s not up to me if it was-" He began looking exhausted and weary but before he could finish he’s drowned out by the sudden uproar these words have caused. Fred and George look about ready to choke someone for answers.

"WILL YOU LOT LET HIM FINISH!?" Ginny yelled over both of them, her cheeks flushed with rage. The room goes quiet again. Ron looked at his little sister in shock and she folded her arms, glaring at each of her brothers in turn. 

Remus nodded gratefully at Ginny and straightens his shabby overcoat."I did not say that you aren't going to be informed. It’s a tricky time and most of the Order is out doing damage control. Dumbledore doesn't want any information being discussed yet until he has a chance to speak with you himself. You will get your answers, you will not be left in the dark for long. I can promise you that." 

This settled over the twins and the rest of them. Judging by the collective silence they were thinking this over. Harry wasn’t quite satisfied yet. “And what of Malfoy?”

"Harry." He sounded urgent, something of importance lay under the way he said his name. Ron was right there with Harry- physically at his side and vocally, and he didn’t seem ready to let it go without prying either.

"He's right! You’ve met Malfoy, Professor. You know he's an untrustworthy prick!" Ron pointed out, crossing his arms across his chest.

"You need to understand, Draco Malfoy is not fighting with or for Voldemort and as of today he no longer holds any ties to his family other than blood."

"Bullshit!" Harry seethed under his breath, thinking of Draco’s reaction to his father’s imprisonment at the end of last term but Remus ignored his cursing. 

"Ron, Harry, you are blinded by hatred. He requires protection from you-know-who just as much as the rest of you." He said very sternly. Hermione stepped in front of them before either of them have another chance to speak. She side-eyed them with a warning of caution in her gaze before directing her attention to the older man. 

"Professor Lupin- I mean Remus, can you at least tell us why he was bleeding?" She asked, looking reproachful.

Remus nodded and shook his head, running a stressed hand through his hair. “I must answer your question as you probably already suspected Ms. Granger, this story will be Draco's to tell when and if he decides to tell it.” 

Hermione nodded but her her features were ripe with disappointment. She glanced back at them and seemed to be suggesting that they let it go _for now_.

With all of his self-control, he lowered his chin in the tightest, smallest, of nods. Watching Remus scan the room for anymore outbursts, Harry’s anger ebbed away leaving behind only a painful headache and the familiar sting of annoyance at never getting proper answers. He sighed deeply and slumped into a chair across from the Weasley twins. 

Remus was catching his breath when Mrs. Weasley entered the room looking a bit flustered.

"Was that my children I heard in here yelling, Remus?" She asked sending a pointed look towards her sons and a knowing one towards her daughter. Ginny was the only one with the decency to look mildly embarrassed. 

"No, Molly.” Remus said with a quiet and strained laugh, quick to keep them from any trouble. “We had a bit of a misunderstanding but we settled it. If you’ll all excuse me, I need to see about Tonks and Arthur now."

He left the room and closed the door behind him. Mrs. Weasley turned towards them forcing a smile onto her face and wiping her palms on the front of her dress. "I must be getting back to speak with the Order very soon. Is anyone hungry? It is nearly dinner time.”

Harry shook his head and didn’t need to look over at his friends to know they probably felt just as confused and stressed as he did, which was why not even one of them was remotely hungry.

“Bedtime, then?"Mrs. Weasley conjured six, dark green sleeping bags. Her wand hand trembled as she lowered it. Ginny hugged her mother gently and it seemed to steady her because she cleared her throat and smiled. “Dad will be joining us as soon. We have a lot to be grateful for. Thank goodness they got to us in time and well- anyways I’m just glad we’re all safe. Now, off to bed the lot of you." She flicked off the lights with a quick swish and directs one last smile at her children, Hermione, and Harry before shutting the door gently behind her.

Fred was the first one to budge from the sofa dejectedly over to climb into a sleeping bag. The darkness in the room pressed in on them. "Some good our questions did." 

George eventually took the one next to him, agreeing. "I have more questions than I did before." 

Harry remained defiantly in the plush chair as his friends climbed into the sleeping bags but finally, slid into the one between Ron and Hermione. Hermione lay on top of hers staring thoughtfully at the ceiling.

"We got one of our questions answered." She said loud enough for just Harry and Ron to hear. "Malfoy is going into hiding alongside us. We just don’t know why."

"Of course, we do, Hermione. Voldemort." Harry said quietly. He twisted around in the sleeping bag to look at her, being plagued by an aching curiosity that hadn’t ceased since the moment the Order had burst into the Burrow.

"Exactly Harry. Malfoy's obviously done something to anger You-Know-Who, if they're after him now too." Hermione frowned. "There's something else that I just can’t figure out."

Ron made a noise in his throat. "Why they don’t just hand the bloody tosser over?" Fred snorted from across the room and Harry saw a small smile ghost Hermione's lips. She forced it to vacate and shook her head.

"We need to trust the Order." Ginny spoke up, her voice muffled, and her back to them. Her shock of red hair is the only thing visible over the green fabric bag. "They wouldn't bring someone dangerous into the same house as Harry-the chosen one-Potter. There are steps they would take to ensure Draco isn’t a threat to him. Right, Hermione?"

"Hm? Oh yes. Probably." She agreed sleepily, her eyes were already closed. It’s the last thing any of them said aloud and Harry rolled over to stare at the ceiling in the dark. He found himself getting lost in the dark space as he listened to the others begin to drift off. Something about the silence of the house didn’t sit right with him and he couldn’t imagine falling asleep, not when this place unsettled him so. He counted sheep until his vision began to fuzz in and out. A plan started to form in his mind.

* * *

Hours later sitting up slowly, his eyes scanned the room around him for movement. His climbed to his feet and his next steps were even slower as he made sure his wand was still in his pocket and tip-toed toward the door. He grasped the doorknob, it creaked slightly and when none of the others woke he backed into the hallway victoriously. The rest of the house was dark except for the staircase at the end of the hall that led presumably downstairs and another one upstairs.

Harry wasn't technically going against Dumbledore's wishes, or at least, that’s what he was determined to believe. Remus told them he wasn't allowed to tell them anymore about what was going on but he didn’t say that Harry wasn’t allowed to find out straight from the mouth of Draco Malfoy.

That’s what he kept reminding himself, as he begun to climb up the carpeted staircase in the dark. He kept climbing, looking around for some kind of sign he was heading in the right direction. When he’d gotten up to the third floor, Harry had come upon a hallway identical to the first one he’d been in. There were three rooms, the closest door to him stood open, from the hall he could see that the contents were empty except for a bed and other room decor. Harry crept further towards the light shining through the cracks of the second door. He could hear the voices of The Order muffled from behind the oak, the sound was more warped than it should have been and the words didn’t make any sense. Harry thought it was probably because of some sort of spell to ward off eavesdroppers.

He didn’t wait around trying to listen in on their meeting, his eyes found the door at the end of the hall and as he moved forward he felt his heart begin to race. He crossed the rest of the hall in two strides, his pulse quickened and his palms began to sweat. He hadn't actually thought this far into his plan. What was he going to say to convince Malfoy to talk? He frankly didn't want to say anything to Malfoy at all, remembering briefly the last time he had seen the other boy, but his curiosity drew him closer.

The door was open, it was far too easy, and as Harry came into the threshold of the doorway he found he couldn’t move past its wooden frame. Moonlight pooled in from the window casting its silver light like a film over the room. Malfoy lay on the bed in the center of the room directly under the window, his eyes are shut and he looked to be sleeping despite the two lamps on the bedside table shining brightly enough to illuminate the whole space in a soft white glow.

Harry felt caught and uncertain from where he stood like an unwelcome visitor. Unable to contain himself any longer he entered the room, _don’t be a coward,_ he thought. He arrived at the foot of Malfoy's bed feeling closer and closer by the second to just abandoning his idea entirely.

Malfoy looked paler in the moonlight than he has in a long time since they had first met maybe. His right arm is fitted in a black cast and bandages disappear under his clothing, stark against the smoothness of his skin. His lip is split and shadows of bruises cover his face and trail down his neck. Harry felt something like dread settle in his stomach as he wondered, _why he wasn’t he healed with magic_?

Malfoy’s grey eyes flickered open, a wildness glinted in them at first but when he saw Harry something dark settled in his gaze."Did you want something, Potter, or are you just here to stare?" 

Harry ignored him, words spurred on by the familiar blank, unimpressed look, that crossed Malfoy’s face despite him having been through some kind of ordeal today. It was easy to forget when it came to Malfoy. 

"Why are you here Malfoy?" He asked, narrowing his eyes. Malfoy doesn’t react much to his question except he goes to roll over on his side facing away from him, finding that he couldn’t because of the bandages he settled back down. He mocked surprise to find Harry was still there when he looked up again. When Harry gave no reaction he sighed.

"You’re so predictable, Potter. Why is that what you came sneaking in here to ask after someone undoubtedly told you not too?" Malfoy asked as he stared at Harry with a mixture of disgust and annoyance. "It's a wonder why but I expected better from you."

"I know what you're up to Malfoy." He spat. "You're spying for the death eaters aren't you? You're trying to get information from the inside but you're just going to have to try a little harder because as long as I'm around no one is going to tell you anything."

Malfoy remained unreadable other than strengthening his glare. "Oh stuff it; I'm not a spy for anyone. I would never _volunteer_ to be stuck in the same house as you and Dumbledore's precious followers."

"Got tired of taking daddy's orders then, did you!?" Harry shot back testily, watching the words sink in before he can take them back. He kind of relished the way Malfoy’s face grows livid, left hand clenched into a fist and eyes scrunched closed. Except the way Malfoy winced, looking unusually shaken, doesn’t allow him to feel satisfied for long. When his grey eyes opened again they flashed cold and calculating. 

"At least I have a one. As far as you’re concerned your father is dead, isn't he?" Malfoy drawled coldly.

Harry couldn’t breathe, his fingers clenched around his wand in his pocket. It took several seconds for him to slowly unwrap each finger from around it. The spell remained on the tip of his tongue burning from being unused. He struggled to get past the sting of Malfoy’s reminder of his parents' death. It wasn’t like the subject hadn’t come up before but with Sirius’ death still so fresh, he wanted to _strangle Malfo_ y more than he may have otherwise. 

"Right, so that's a touchy subject is it?"Harry said after a second, as evenly as he could manage. "You won't mind me asking again then? Why the hell are you even here if you don't want to be?"

Malfoy stared at him for a while. "Fine, you've got me. You've figured me out. I just really wanted to see you and Weaselbee again." 

"Don't call him that, you prick." Harry said without missing a beat. Malfoy ignored him and didn’t bother to respond except for the small raising of his arm when flipping Harry off. The tips of his fingers were just visible over the top of the cast. Harry's attention being drawn to it only renewed the number of questions he had.

"Why are you wearing that anyways?" He asked grudgingly.

"It’s a muggle healing device, isn't it? Surely you would know that." Malfoy scowled and shoved his broken arm under the pile of sheets again as if to hide it from view.

"That’s not what I meant. Why didn’t they just heal you with magic?" Harry questioned him as he sits on the edge of the other boy’s bed, uncaring about what Malfoy would think when he did. Malfoy doesn’t get pissed off, instead he winced at this and scooted an inch or two away. Harry looked at him in a new light. "You're a mess, Malfoy."

He sneered at him."Not that it’s any of your business but would you believe me if I told you that Dumbledore's lapdogs were cruel enough to bind me in this filthy muggle device and leave me here to suffer?" His tone was hollow enough but Harry inwardly sighed. He had forgotten how much of a drama queen Malfoy could be.

"Did they?" Harry questioned suspiciously and after a few moments silence in which Malfoy stared up at the ceiling.

"No."

"You’re a fucking-"

"Manners, Potter." Malfoy interrupted him with a dirty look. "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to curse at people when they’re injured? I guess her being dead and all might've thrown a wrench in things, who does that leave? Seeing as Weasley is about as dumb as a troll that excludes him but I’d at least expected the mud blood to teach you how to pretend you have some dignity. She’s very good at that, _pretending_ she isn’t filth.”

Harry lost it completely; he pulled his wand from his pocket with shaking hands and thrust it towards Malfoy. Sparks flew from the end of it.

"SAY ONE MORE WORD AGAINST MY FRIENDS, MALFOY and I swear I'll-..." Harry's words got stuck in his throat.

Malfoy cowered beneath him; his eyes shut tightly, his face pale and contorted with fear and pain. His hands are shaking from where they had been thrown up to shield himself and a small sound escaped his lips in a breathy whimper. 

Harry felt his anger disappear like a cloud of smoke and his chest heaved to catch his breath. His wand hand shook as he lowered it slowly. His face contorted into one of confusion. Malfoy seemed to realize what had happened for his eyes were opening and he was sitting up slowly, looking from his trembling hands to Harry's wand and then Harry himself. He fumed with anger.

"Get out." Malfoy said through clenched teeth, his eyes burning a hole into Harry's.

"Malfoy, what-?" But Harry's words didn’t find him in time and suddenly Malfoy was erupting.

"Get out! GET out! GET OUT NOW!" His throat goes horse as he screams and Harry was suddenly almost afraid of the look in Malfoy's eyes. Because he looked like he could kill him right now and Harry wondered if he was capable of doing something like that without his wand. He didn’t wait around to find out.

He stuffed his wand into his pocket and ran for the door, Malfoy's screams followed him out of there. The door slammed shut behind him, he hadn’t mean to shut it so hard, but he didn’t look back as he ran full speed down the stairs, praying The Order hadn't heard them through the charms on their door.

He's grateful for the carpet on the stairs because it absorbed the noise of his running feet. It wasn’t until he had exited the stairs that he realized he could hardly breathe. A single thought went through his mind repeating like a mantra to the beating of his panicked heart rate, as he ran back towards the room from which he had came, _Why had Malfoy been afraid of magic_?

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Author's note* Hi again! We've reached the last bit of writing for this story that I've posted before (I did rewrite several things though) so each chapter from here on out is new :D Chapter three will come out next week and until then I look forward to hearing any thoughts in the comments!
> 
> I have a Pinterest board for this story which you can find: https://pin.it/1YGFkUr  
> I have a Spotify playlist for this story which you can find: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0cAPXKBI0KKzZQLZgjxGZv?si=zlqKvrnqQ5epcLA5cBJX9w


	3. The Hatred of Many.

**Chapter two** -

Draco pummeled his pillow, tears stinging his eyes; he dwelled over what happened before Potter fled the room. Panic constricted his throat.

A slight rapping on the door broke him free of his thoughts. The door creaked open- Potter had slammed it shut as he fled- and the Werewolf appeared around it, his face was set with tired lines but he broke into a small smile at the sight of Draco being awake. “I thought I had heard something. How are you feeling?”

“How do you think?” Draco snapped under his breath, he didn’t look the older man in the eyes. He didn’t remember who initially found him and pulled him from his family’s cellar but he’s betting on it having been his former defense against the dark arts teacher. Something about this made him feel vulnerable and sick, he wanted to lash out defensively, and all of this came as if he wasn’t already on edge because of his experience with Potter moments before. His old professor was either foolish or foolishly sympathetic to the point of ignorance because he did not fold under the weight of Draco’s glare. 

“I imagine probably not well." Lupin admited patiently, leaning against the door frame. "You have suffered immensely and survived much in the past 24 hours. You’re very brave, Draco.”

A small laugh bubbled up in his throat before he could stop it and his fingers dug into the scratchy bedsheets. “Right.”

“You saved many lives today.” The man began to cross the room as he spoke but sensing Draco’s discomfort didn’t get any closer. “The Order is indebted to you; you gave us very vital information at the expense of yourself.”

“Bravery had nothing to do with it.” Draco argued stiffly. Remus nodded solemnly like he's been expecting this, it filled him with rage. 

“You did it because of your mother?”

“He lied to me! He promised she would be _safe_.” He spat at him. The lamps flickered due to his temperament changing so quickly and Draco’s heart beat loudly in his ears because of the unintentional magic he’d used. He forced himself to disregard it. 

They stared at each other, seemingly at a cross-roads. Lupin was silent for a while and he half expected the coward to leave when he dragged a chair- which had already been in the room- over to Draco's bedside, and plopped down into it. 

As he did, Draco notices the blood- dark scarlet stains near the bottom of the man's t-shirt which came closer into view as the werewolf scooted closer. Draco’s stomach churned rebelliously. "Your mother made me promise to get you out before she would go with us. She understood the risk and knew we might not be able to come back for her but she wanted to make sure her son had a better chance of escape than she did. She gave everything just so we could get away. The last thing I saw before I apparated us both away was your Aunt disarming her.”

“Stop. Stop talking.” Draco gritted out, squeezing his eyes shut against the man’s words.

Lupin’s face was awash with empathy, he leaned forward. His tone very serious as he uttered his next words. “She wanted me to tell you that she loves you."

This hit Draco like a stab wound to the heart. 

“Well can’t you go back for her?” Draco argued, tone ripe with desperation. “She’s a hero then, unlike me! You can’t just- you’re supposed to be the good guys- you can’t leave her there to die!” He trembled as he imagined his mum dueling the death eaters to give the werewolf and his scummy friend's the chance to get him out of the manor. He hadn’t been worth that, she was the one who was supposed to be rescued if anything, _not_ him.

The man’s shoulders slipped down a little further, his line of sight straying to the stitching on Draco’s blankets. There was no missing the shame which settled over him and the subtle bow to his head. “I don’t have any answers for you, Draco. I wish I did and I wish they could be the ones you want to hear. The truth is, it was a massive risk on the Order’s part performing one rescue mission already. Now we play the waiting game. We’re in the same boat for the moment and it is one that I fear requires a lot of patience, do you understand?”

Emotions threatened to overwhelm him and it bubbled out as it usually did when he got like this- with a vengeance. "I hate you."

Lupin steepled his hands together, hiding his face in them. "I'm sorry, Draco, I truly am."

 _That's not good enough,_ Draco wanted to shout. He wanted to scream until he lost his voice again, to throw himself at the man's exhausted form and start swinging, but despair welled up in his chest like a spring and he sank even lower into his blankets. "Just leave me alone."

"Draco-"

"I said LEAVE! Now. I don’t want to talk to you, mutt!"

His former teacher didn’t flinch under the assault of his word but he regarded him with steadily solemn eyes. He nodded briskly and a vast emptiness stretched over his face, he replaced the chair in its original spot before he went. Glancing behind him as he exited the room, he said tonelessly. "I'll see you tomorrow morning. Someone will be in to check on your injuries shortly.”

* * *

Whatever Lupin had meant by shortly didn’t fit Draco’s definition of it. He found himself retreating into his memory of his time in the cellar. It’s blurry and when he tried to think about it too hard certain memories resurfaced in sharp painful visions. 

_He recalled passing out unconscious, sweat glistening on his brow as he shivered violently. As he passed in and out of sleep, he’d feel his aching body and hear his aunt’s voice shrieking. “Passed out? Well, get my traitorous nephew awake again! I’ll make him talk before the dark lord arrives.”_

_Fingers wrapped around his hair and he woke up with his body searing as he was hauled to his knees. Draco flinched as he came face to face with the insanity on Bellatrix’s face. Dolohov remained behind her, his mouth split into an ugly grin._

_He couldn’t tell who was holding him up; he thought it might be Crabbe’s father or Goyle’s. Either way neither was the man he knew when he was a child and to them, he was no longer just a friend of their sons. He had no identity, he was simply the newest victim and they were death eaters before they were anything else. Bellatrix dug the tip of her wand into Draco’s cheek, distracting him from the muffled hum of his racing thoughts._

_“I’ll ask you again, nephew. Who did you CALL ON THE FLOO!?” Her spittle hit him and it took everything in him not to cower away. She sank her fingernails into the front of his shirt as if reading his mind. He’s disoriented from an earlier blow to his head, blood ran down his forehead and he’s now far past his initial decision against begging_

_“Please, please don’t.” He pleaded scratchily. “I already told you a hundred times. It was my friend Blaise, I didn’t tell him anything. I just wanted to gloat a little.”_

_The lie may have actually worked at one point but not after they’d sent someone to the Zabini household an hour ago. Blaise, the fucking angel, despite trying his best with what he’d been told wasn’t able to match his story close enough to the one Draco had made up on the spot. Blaise had improvised that they were talking about quidditch, a million other things, and something about Pansy Parkinson which Draco was going to kill him later over. Whereas Draco had told them a very different story._

_Now Bellatrix’s eyes flashed violently, digging the wand deeper into his skin. She hissed into his ear. “Liar!! Dirty little liar! Dolohov heard you talking to a man, an_ **_older_ ** _man, older than either of you.”_

_“Why would I lie? There was no man.” Tears slid down his cheeks, he tensed in preparation for the agony that’s sure to come. It didn’t matter because when she backhanded him it hurt all the same, and through his lashes he saw her raising her wand above her head._

_“Crucio!” She shrieked._

_It still came as a surprise when the spell hit him in the stomach and it consumed him like wild fire. He’s twitching wildly before his back hit the floor and the death eater who had been holding him up stepped around Draco’s immobilized body in disgust. Draco writhed, venom in his blood, back arching as his screaming carried into the manor above._

_There was no pretending that this wasn’t happening to him, the agony rooted him to his body, this was happening and it was happening to him. It’s happening to him in the cellar of his own home as strangers, the parents of his old friends, and his estranged aunt do this to him. They were responsible for this, as his anguished cries wrung out into the air._

_The pain stopped very briefly and panting, he slowly dragged himself over onto his stomach. He could barely see with his blurred eyes as the dark figures stalked closer, he groaned pitifully and curled in on himself. More than one cast the cruciatus curse at him. The intensity of the pain caused a burst of white light behind his eyelids. Bellatrix and the other death eaters hissed insults at him, mocking his cries as they dissolved into moans, and one broken syllable: his mother’s name._

_He wondered from far off in his muddied brain if the idea wasn’t to make him blurt out his secrets during these excruciating moments of pain as they torture him but we’re instead about getting him to give in, to want death first, and then when they were finally satisfied, they could draw it out of him in other ways.  
_

_The death eaters encircling him cast the occasion curse, splitting the skin under his shirt like a whip. It went on forever._

_Every time he cried out from the stone floor or his sobs turned to pleading in their ears she signified to them to stop for just a moment, before moving in a little closer and beginning again. Eventually, he knew there would be no more walls to drop and he would tell them everything. They always do. He had witnessed the death eater’s torture enough people during the past two months to know this and he’d even been forced to participate in some of them. Now he heard their screams echoing within his own._

_Bellatrix brought herself low enough to run her thumb over Draco’s cheek. He could barely comprehend her words through his agony. “Your pain is for nothing, baby nephew. If you don’t come clean, I’ll hand you over to the dark lord myself so he can tear it from your mind before he kills you. Is that what you want?”_

_She gestured for the men to stop briefly and they lowered their wands. Draco sank back against the ground, panting, he could barely hold his eyes open. His body trembled with terror he hardly felt anymore, numbed as warmth pooled under his back and soaked his clothes. His body didn’t feel like his own any longer, more wounded than recognizable. His mouth trickled with blood, he let it trail out. Bellatrix watched him cheerfully as he caught his breath until his fingers ever so slowly curled into a fist, just the middle one remained when he dropped his arm back to the floor. The expression on her face was almost worth it._

_“Such a pity.” She snarled while baring her teeth, her tone conveying it was anything but. Draco didn’t see her leave as already the torture began again. His tormented sounds surely followed his aunt up the stairs._

* * *

Adrenaline surged through Draco’s veins as he crashed back into the present. Heart pounding, he whipped his head from side to side, taking in the room. It looked just as it had before he’d decided to wuss out like this, but now he couldn’t help his sudden awareness at not knowing where exactly he was. There’s no visible threat around him but he couldn’t stop shaking. _You’re being irrational_ , he scolded himself, _just-just breathe and everything will be fine._

He’s in the process of taking some very deep breaths when he heard a soft rap against the wooden door. He half expected to see Lupin again when he looked up but instead he spotted a familiar older witch.

“Mr. Malfoy?” McGonagall’s voice cut through the fog in his brain. The woman was dressed in her usual robes; the only difference in her appearance outside of school was the way she wasn’t wearing her typical witch’s hat. Her cat-like eyes narrowed on Draco’s face and he hoped the surprise wasn’t as evident on his face as he thought it was. 

Not trusting his senses, he asked quietly. “Am I dreaming?”

Her mouth pressed into a thin amused line. “As interesting as that would be, no, Mr. Malfoy, you are not.”

His brain connected the dots rather fast and he stared up at her accusingly “You’re a member of Dumbledore’s little army.”

“Little army?” She quirked an eyebrow looking like the mildly disappointed professor he knew her to be when interacting with him. “Indeed, I am a member of the Order if that’s what you mean. I take it regarding your confusion that you don’t remember our first interaction today?”

He frowned at her disbelievingly and struggled to recall anything past his anguish after he’d passed out the first time. Memories began to pop up in hazy pieces. He recalled _waking up sometime during the healing process, not knowing what was happening. He couldn’t tell if the torture was over, and he’s struck by overwhelming fear as his vision focused just enough to catch sight of the wands being waved around over him. In the throes of suffering, he still managed to fight back, hurting himself more as he tried to resist the person forcing him back against the bed with an arm over his chest._

Thinking back, he couldn’t particularly remember the faces of all of the people healing him but one woman’s face sharpened in his mind until it became McGonagall’s.She had figured out before anyone else had what was wrong when he woke and began thrashing about. 

_He kept throwing up his hands like they could shield him from the harm he thought they intended to do to him. He fought against their attempts to restrain him further with magic; cuffs appeared around his wrists, strapping him to the bed. “Get away from me! Don’t touch me!”_

_“Wands away, all of you!” McGonagall demanded, following his terrified gaze as it flickered over each raised wand including her own. She must have stowed it away because it disappeared into her sleeve. “He’s terrified, can’t you see? The worst of his wounds have been healed already and he’ll be alright recovering the rest of the way without magic.”_

_“But Minerva, the boy’s arm-“ A deep voice began cautiously._

_“No, Kingsley, do as I say unless you wish to traumatize the boy further.” She interrupted with a tone of finality. Draco was crying softly, not understanding anything, everything blanketed by the dull ache of his body. The memory faded after that, someone tipped a vial of potion into his mouth that put him right out._

Shame tinged Draco’s skin a flush pink. He cut his gaze to the floor, no longer able to hold her yellow eyes. “I wish I didn’t.” He ground out under his breath. 

McGonagall nodded, face lined with understanding. It all made him feel so _wrong._ “In that case, Mr. Malfoy, I know you’ve been through a grave ordeal and I don’t want you to feel like you must relive it but anything you can tell me about what happened to you will be helpful in a number of ways.”

“You expect me to go over it _with you_?”

Her mouth twisted sympathetically. “I don’t expect any such thing. I am however asking you if you wouldn’t mind?”

“You saw me, didn’t you? You know what happened.” Draco snapped, digging his fingernails into the bicep of his cast arm. 

She politely and just as cautiously as the werewolf had before, sat in the chair across from his bed. “If you would rather speak to your head of house I would understand, Mr. Malfoy? He is here.”

“Are you talking about Snape, are you mad?” He asked while glaring at her. His heart was sinking like a stone due to dread. The last thing he wanted to do was see _Severus Snape_ another committed death eater. He’d questioned the man’s loyalty at first after growing up watching the way he’d followed Dumbledore around like any other of his lost lap dogs but Draco had seen the Hogwarts professor at his manor often enough during the past two summers wandering the corridors alone with the dark lord. Now after all of this time, he couldn’t imagine the man’s loyalties lying anywhere else. 

McGonagall seemed taken aback by his initial anger but her wise eyes flashed behind her spectacles as she deduced the reasoning for his reaction. “Dear boy, Severus Snape is not a death eater though I suppose this is the first of it you’ve heard. He’s a double agent for Albus Dumbledore and you’ll be in perfectly good hands if you wish to speak with him instead.”

She didn’t understand. She hadn’t seen what he’d seen. 

He scoffed but his voice came out weaker than before. “You’re wrong.”

Her aged face twisted with pity and for a moment they just sat regarding each other, the headmistress of Gryffindor house and the death eater’s wayward son. 

“Is there anyone else you would prefer?”

“No.”

“There must be someone? Nymphadora Tonks, the daughter of your mother’s sister perhaps?”

Draco stared at her, gaze wavering only slightly. “I- I don’t-I’m hated by all of you, I distrust you, and none of you deserves anything else from me. Tell me, who would you have me speak to!?”

“Why on earth would a single member of the order hate you, Mr. Malfoy?” McGonagall asked tone of the edge of exasperation. 

“Because of _this_!” He pulled back his sleeve in one smooth motion, holding out his arm angrily and shaking it in front of her. The dark mark cast an inky shadow across his arm and the snake coiled out along his flesh from the skull. McGonagall’s mouth dipped open, face going pale at the sight of it. “They made me one of them.”

She struggled to recover. “But why- why would they- you’re just a child?”

“I’m sixteen.” He hissed between his teeth, he roughly wiped tears from his face as quickly as they come. “I was chosen by the dark lord himself.”

“For the task of killing Albus Dumbledore?” The elderly woman inquired and Draco flinched wondering briefly if he’s just gotten himself a life sentence to Azkaban. He’s almost too far gone now to care, holy rage spilling out from his tear ducts, his nails seemed to have struck deep because he felt the tell-tale droplets of blood accumulating around his fingers.

He spat. “To prove myself.”

“By killing Dumbeldore?”

“By killing whoever he asked!” Draco shouted. “He made me a bloody death eater, it’s their jobs! He points them in the direction and they go willingly while casting unforgivables.”

McGonagall didn’t take offense to his raging. She waited patiently, folding her fingers carefully in her lap as she waited until he’s finished. “I’m sorry this has happened to you, Mr. Malfoy. It looks like you may be seeing Severus tonight regardless, he’s the only one Dumbledore will trust to take care of that.” She gestured at Draco’s arm. 

Draco stuttered under her stare. He tugged his sleeve back over the tattooed flesh. “What do you mean _take care of it_?”

“The wards we have surrounding this building may be keeping you from being sucked into the presence of you-know-who now but if they were to fail… Well, it’s not something either of us would like to take a chance on, I’m sure?” McGonagall admitted with a knowing look in her eyes. He couldn’t contain the shudder of fear that ran through him as he imagined this. 

“Alright,” He breathed deeply in through his nose, then, fixes his eyes on McGonagall’s. “ _But_ you can’t leave me alone with him, you have to swear it.”

McGonagall’s expression changed to one of grim seriousness as she nodded. “I promise I will not leave you alone with Severus unless you specify otherwise.”

“I won’t” He stated through his teeth. “I told you I don’t trust him.”

“In that case, I’ll be at your side every moment.” She consoled him, standing up from the chair. “I’ll bring Severus back with me and if you don’t mind, Madam Pomfrey as well. Your health needs checked while she’s here tonight.”

He didn’t assume to have any actual choice in the matter and he’s afraid to push his luck so he stayed quiet. After she exited the room, he acknowledged the gratefulness in his chest for the witch, no matter how repressed and buried it was.

His anxiety built as he waited for the three adults to come back. It took a little longer than he originally expected and he flushed again when he realized she was probably giving them the exposition of what he’d already said. They appeared not soon after with McGonagall leading the way, the elderly witch from the hospital wing at school, and lastly with Snape tailing further behind. 

“Ah, there he is!” Madam Pomfrey smiled as she made her way around to the side of his bed. He hardly spared her a glance, McGonagall either, who assisted the other woman in fitting his arm into some kind of muggle doctor’s device. 

His heart rate skyrocketed and he fumbled with the blankets, squeezing the scratchy material in his non-broken hand like it was some kind of life-line. Snape’s gaze flickered over him as he stopped in the threshold of the room, and as always, the dark-haired man’s face was completely unreadable. 

Their eyes remained locked. They saw each other only as another death eater could: split straight to the soul, all of the ugliness spilling out, there was no hiding, and each man regarded the other already knowing the worst parts of them. He thought back to the last time he and Severus Snape had been in close quarters, the one thing missing was the dark lord and a victim to torment. 

Snape’s voice drawled quieter than he’s ever heard it. “May I Enter?

 _No._ Draco wanted to snap. _Go back to your dark lord_. But something about the nature of the way Snape regarded him didn’t allow the intrusion to escape from his mouth. His nearly black eyes poured through him with something unfamiliar in them. Pity, maybe. It’s both insulting and confusing.

“Fine.” He said, mouth feeling dry like chalk. His voice trembled and he’s grateful when none of them say anything about it. Snape crossed the room toward him in the way someone would if they were trying not to startle a small animal. The cuff around his bicep started contracting, distracting his attention toward it. “What is this thing?”

“It’s a blood pressure cuff, hold very still now, dear.” Pomfrey told him. He narrowed his eyes at her to which she smiled gently and continued reading the dial she held in her hand. “Mhm.”

She undid the strap on the doohickey and he shrugged out of her grasp nearly before she’s finished pulling it off his arm. 

“Are you ready, Mr. Malfoy? For Severus to begin?” McGonagall asked him politely. He looked between the two of them, anxiousness welling up in him like a tide. 

He surprised himself by shaking his head. “No. No, I’m not. This is fucking insane.”

Madam Pomfrey’s mouth drooped open wide enough for an insect to fly in, whenever he curses but neither of the other two adults reacted to his language in the slightest. 

“What is?” McGonagall questioned, looking down at him for so long has caused her glasses to slip down to rest on the top of her nose. 

He couldn’t take her seriously, he couldn’t look her in the eyes, and he was starting to feel like he wasn’t getting enough oxygen. This whole situation was _fucked._ Hours ago he was being torn apart and tortured in his family home and now he’s someplace he didn’t know with people he didn’t trust, who all supposedly wanted to help him. 

_Forgive me if that doesn’t sit right,_ Draco’s frustrated thoughts chased each other around in his mind. He shook his head again, wanting to retreat into the floor under Snape’s ever-present state. 

“I need a minute, alright?” He snapped. McGonagall somehow allowed him to maintain a shred of dignity because she nodded with her face lit up with understanding she turned toward Snape as if to repeat this information.

“Take as much time as you need.” He cut her off, his tone remaining the same as ever. The only subtle sign that the man didn’t find this situation entirely normal was the small tick of his jaw as he folded his hands behind his back. Smug bastard. Draco was breaking out into a cold sweat; composure was something he used to be good at. What the hell was happening to him?

“You’re looking pale as a sheet, son.” Madam Pomfrey remarked, bending low as if to get a better look at his face. She curled her lips together and shook her head. “No. This won’t do. Let me get your vitals before we continue with anything else.”

He scoffed defensively. “You don’t need to do anything else to me.”

“Have I not been looking after you since you were a boy?” Madam Pomfrey took on a reprimanding tone. “Remember when you were thirteen and you came to the hospital wing over that gash on your arm? Well, I remember. So you just sit still, trust me, and let me have a look at you.”

Draco’s scowl doesn’t hold up under the gaze of the little elderly witch and he wilted back into his pillow stubbornly.

“For god’s sake, Mr. Malfoy, let the woman help.” McGonagall commanded, running a hand over her face in exasperation. “The sooner she is finished, Severus can perform his spell and we’ll be able to let you rest as you please.”

Madam Pomfrey turned her back to the three of them, Draco saw her arm waver and her shape illuminate for a split second, and then she faced them again with a small medical bag in her hands. “For emergencies, though I’ve never had to use the muggle setting.”

She took out a tiny silver torch. “Bright light.” She warned before shining it in each of his eyes. His pupils must have expanded because she seemed satisfied, clicking it off and stowing it back into the bag. “No concussion!”

She took out a couple more things from her bag. 

“What is that?” He asked warily as she approached him with a small cylinder device connected to two pieces which she stuck in her ears.

“This is a stethoscope, hold still, and breathe deeply.” She divulged, pressing the cold metal of the ridiculous muggle scope thing to his chest. He flinched at her touch, hoping his scowl would hide it. “Heartbeat sounds normal, perhaps a little fast.”

“Really,” He gritted out. “Brilliant. Is that your medical diagnosis?”

Pomfrey withdrew the scope from underneath his shirt, paying Draco no mind. His scowl deepened but before he could open his mouth again, McGonagall shot him a look over her glasses, a silent warning of sorts that he chose not to ignore. Snape, on the other hand, he decided would be a perfect target to blow off some steam on. 

“What are you looking at?” He seethed at the older man. These are his first words actually directed at his old potions master and not at the space around him. Snape raised a dark eyebrow at this; he lowered his chin staring down at him over his hooked nose. 

“Is there something you would like to say, Mr. Malfoy?” He spoke in barely more than a curling whisper but Draco caught every word. “By all means, go right ahead.”

“Alright,” Draco snarled at him, batting away the healer’s hands. “Alright, I’ll go ahead. You must think you’ve got them all fooled, huh? But not me, I know who you are. I _saw you._ I saw the things we did together.”

He’s shaking violently by the time he’s finished, recalling the horrible memories he had gathered over the summer in which Severus Snape had been present. Snape regarded him, his expression unimpressed. “You saw what was necessary for you to see at the time.”

“I saw you torture people!” He shouted through his dry throat, drawing a gasp from Madam Pomfrey. “I- I tortured someone. But at least I don’t pretend that it didn’t happen. I don’t _pretend_ to be righteous, running around with the Order as if you aren’t still following your dark lord’s every command. Would you have tortured me too?”

This inspired the first genuine reaction to cross the man’s face. A shadow fell over it and his mouth formed a straight line. His shoulders dipped the most minuscule amount and for once in his life, Draco seemed to have caught his Potion’s master speechless. The room had gone uncomfortably silent. McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey were just as taken aback.

His lip trembled and he dug his teeth in to his cheek to mask it with pain. “If you were there would you have joined in? What’s one more dead to you, huh? Where were you when it was happening?”

“I was attending an Order meeting.” Snape’s slow reply crept out. 

“How convenient. Do you know who cast the first spell?” Draco asked bitterly spurred on by some invisible force. “My aunt did, right after Dolohov caught me talking to that old fool. They never tell you what the cruciatus curse really feels like. It feels like you’re being flayed alive, like the individual layers of your skin are being scraped off and the death eaters performed it on me for _hours_.”

His voice cracked with a resounding tremor. He hesitated while glaring at the three of them in turn but with eyes as wet as his; it didn’t have the desired effect. “My father is in Azkaban and my mother was taken from me. I wasn't trying to be a hero. I just wanted to save her and your bloody Order ruined that too." 

A gentle hand clasped over his shoulder and he looked up to find that it belongs to McGonagall. Her usually stiff chin wobbled but she held his gaze steadily. The odd action of moral support hit him with a tidal wave of emotions he couldn’t even begin to decipher. His face contorted, tears trickled down, and he buried his face into his hand to hide them. He couldn’t handle any more humiliation today. 

“The dark lord came to you because of your father, did he not, Draco? Is that why you felt you had to protect her?” Severus spoke up carefully; he seemed to be trying his best to be at being sensitive with his tone. Unsurprisingly, he was falling short. “You told Dumbledore many things apparently, several of which, saved the lives of the entire Weasley family. Potter and Mrs. Granger included. Another of which he spoke relayed information that Hogwarts isn’t safe this year.”

Draco was still swiping the sleeve of his shirt around his puffy eyes. He didn’t even acknowledge the man.

“Severus, give him time-“

“We haven’t _got_ time.” Snape hissed callously at McGonagall. He retreated across the room and returned better composed. This time, much more calmly he added. “The dark lord surely knows of his betrayal by now and if he is to survive this we must all be on the same page. You can trust me, Draco.”

His eyes felt raw as they darted up to find his fellow death eater’s face. He wanted so fiercely to be able to trust this man, at that moment the desire was overwhelming. This was the potion’s master he had learned from since he was eleven, his head of house, the family friend he’d grown up occasionally seeing at diners, and most importantly, what screamed at him in his mind as he so desperately craved solidarity, was that if Snape wasn’t lying he would be the person Draco had the most in common with.

Staring up at the man with his billowing cloak splayed out on the floor behind him, crossed arms hidden under deep black robes, somewhere beneath all of that fabric was a mark just like his. They were tainted men and if the dark lord were to find out that his double agent was playing for the other side they would both be seen as traitors in the eyes of the greatest evil ever known. This thought shook him to his core. 

“I’ll tell you what you need to know.” Draco said, running his hand through his hair and tugging anxiously on the strands. He’s hunched over himself already, arm and cast crossed over his stomach. “Nothing more.”

Snape leaned forward on his feet. “Do tell.”

With a deep breath drawn into his shaky lungs, he began. “I’m sure you already know, I was charged with killing Dumbledore. This year at Hogwarts I was supposed to get it done somehow, of course, all of the details were left up to me. I hadn’t seen my mother since they took her and I knew I couldn’t go through with it so I flooed him. I told him what they wanted me to do.”

“What else did you tell the Headmaster?” He questioned him, narrowed eyes sweeping his features for any sign of deception.

Shaking his head, Draco tried to recall everything else that he’d told the old man. 

“I overheard Bellatrix talking with that disgusting werewolf Greyback in a corridor about a week before things went wrong. They were talking about future plans which I wouldn’t usually pay attention to but then I heard them mention someplace called the burrow. _Set it on fire and burn the Weasels out of their hole_ , she said that.” He couldn’t hide the shudder that ran through him.

“Now listen to me this is very important; did she say anything about when?” Snape asked urgently. “Was there a date set?”

“No, but that bitch kept boasting that they could get in despite the protection charms surrounding their home. She _knew_ she could do it and they were planning to attack when Potter would be there.” Draco shook his head, scowling. “He was with them this summer, wasn’t he?”

McGonagall and Snape exchanged a look. They seemed to be having a silent conversation, one that didn’t include either him or Madam Pomfrey. He glanced up at the witch in the midst of this, her irritation clear to all as she began digging through her medical bag spitefully. 

She was muttering speedily under her breath. “Medical help indeed, shall I treat the boy or not?”

McGonagall cleared her throat. “Yes, Mr. Malfoy. It is quite likely they were mounting an attack on the boy and the family before the beginning of the school year. You may have saved each one of their lives.”

He has no idea how to feel about this. Something else occured to Draco and he spoke next with carefully contained dread. “And I ruined that for them.” 

_He’s going to kill me_ , he thought picturing the snake-like face of Voldemort in his mind. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck and he shivered despite being warm beneath his sheets. His stomach churned with nausea but neither adult seemed to be finished with him yet.

“What about Mr. Potter? Did they say anything else about their plans for him?" The woman pressed.

"I'm not sure." Draco said stressfully. "They're always planning to kill him in some capacity, eventually you almost wish they would just get it over with." 

McGonagall’s eyes narrowed an inch so he backtracked. “I’m kidding, Professor, just kidding."

Snape isn’t amused either. “Dumbledore specifically told me you mentioned a threat at Hogwarts. What is it?”

“As I _told him_ earlier, I don’t know the details. I just know that during the meetings, what they spoke about was information the death eaters shouldn’t know.” Draco said warily, eyes sneaking from McGonagall to Snape.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know just secrets, names of members from your Order, details about living situations, and plans. You name it.” He sharpened his glare towards Snape. “You Order members are such sticklers about loyalty it’s almost ironic for me to tell you that you have a spy in your midst.”

“You must be mistaken.” McGonagall denied instantly, looking a bit frantically at Snape. She wrung her hands in front of her, shaking her head from side to side.

He breathed out angrily. “I _heard_ them talking about an inside man. What else would they have been referring to?”

These words seemed to plunge in a little deeper and finally reach their mark. She sank into the chair across from him.

“A spy in the Order…” She trailed off, face falling. “Think about what this would mean, Severus.”

The greasy-haired man had taken up pacing in the corner and he slowed. “We must report back to Dumbledore if there is a spy in the Order.”

“Not just in the Order,” Draco interjected quietly. At one point he would have loved to have been the bearer of such bad news for Dumbledore’s little army but now he doesn’t take any pleasure in it. “Whoever it is will be at Hogwarts too.”

“How is this possible?” Madam Pomfrey cried.

“Calm yourself, Poppy.” McGonagall told her as she climbed to her feet. She wrapped her arm around the other woman’s shoulders, gripping one tightly. Pomfrey attempted to pull herself together despite the fear and shock morphing her aged face. “If what the boy says is true then he is correct, Hogwarts is not safe for them this year.”

This settled over all four of them. The grief that crawled out of Draco’s stomach, clenching its icy grasp around his heart comes as a surprise to him. He hadn’t imagined missing the castle as much as does now was something he was capable of.

“In that case, we need to move this procedure along so I can report our findings back to the Headmaster.” Snape eventually said. He drew his wand out of his sleeve and Draco caught sight of it glinting in the lamplight. 

"Don't point that thing at me until I'm ready!" He yelped when Snape aimed his wand ever-so-slightly toward his arm. The butterfly feeling of panic in his chest intensified into a hammering even as the man lowered the tip of it toward the ground. Twitchy and thoughts racing a terrifying amount, he dug his skull back into the headboard of his bed. It didn’t quiet them, he swallowed hard now. _It’s alright, It’s alright_ , he chanted to himself. _You’ve had magic done on you a million times before._

So, why the hell was he so dizzy? The room they were in didn’t seem nearly as big as it had earlier. He’s aware of every inch between him and these people. As the need to escape grew and grew with nowhere to go he found himself withdrawing inward again. Distancing every part of him until it was just someone else’s skin, someone else’s heartbeat.

Trying to control his shortness of breath, he’s finally able to stammer out. “Get on with it then.”

He clenched his eyelids shut again as Snape grew closer. This time he didn’t open them. If he saw the wand, if he saw anything at all, he’s going to lose it. If he allowed himself to look he’s going to shatter into a hundred crazy pieces and they’re going to toss him into St. Mungo’s and throw away the key. He dug his fingernails into his palm, praying to a god he didn’t believe in to let his body fade away.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Author's note* Hello! I've been excited to post this chapter for ages and now that it's out I can't wait to hear what you might be thinking about it!! Chapter four will come out next week, thank you for reading so far :D
> 
> I have a Pinterest board for this story which you can find: https://pin.it/1YGFkUr  
> I have a Spotify playlist for this story which you can find: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0cAPXKBI0KKzZQLZgjxGZv?si=zlqKvrnqQ5epcLA5cBJX9w


	4. Waiting Game.

**Chapter Three- Waiting Game.**

The image of Malfoy flinching away from his wand appeared behind Harry’s eyelids every time he closed them. It kept him awake for hours, tossing and turning on his sleeping bag. It didn’t help that the room was drafty and he could hear the wind howling loudly outside, sounding far too close to anguished moans for him to block out.

 _What if that was Malfoy and not the wind_? The intrusive thought returned once more as he glanced at the others out of the corner of his eye. They all continued sleeping peacefully and he wondered if he’s hearing things or going mad as retribution for seeking out the other boy tonight. Rain pattered the glass windows, the storm not even close to ceasing.

The guilt resumed chewing away at his insides like moths and even now, tucked away safely into his sleeping bag. Malfoy’s angry shouts resounded in his eardrums. He squeezed his eyes shut again in frustration with himself and this entire ridiculous situation. He sank further into the soft fabric as if he could hide from the shame tearing into his insides.

 _I remember brandishing my wand at Malfoy loads of times,_ Harry thought. Brandishing and casting were entirely different things. He wouldn’t hurt Malfoy. He had always thought the other boy must know that, despite their rivalry and the bitter feelings they harvested for each other, there had to be some kind of line they couldn’t cross. _He has never reacted like that before._

Whatever happened to him out there this summer and the reason Malfoy had reacted to his wand were connected. Harry was determined to find out how and why. His nerves felt worn down by the circumstances of this too-long day. The minutes dragged on and he didn’t think he would ever get to sleep because every time he closed his eyes he saw Malfoy in his mind, cowering in terror at first until the image twisted and warped to become Lupin carrying the wounded boy in his arms.

It’s infuriating. Eventually, he did begin to drift off after replacing those horrible images with fuzzy darkness. Sleep caught hold of him like an anchor and dragged him into its comfortable depths.

* * *

_A woman’s crying is like music to his ears and he tilts his head to better hear the symphony spilling out from her lips. “Please, please. He’s my son, you must understand-”_

_He presses his lips together and with a twitch of his wand Narcissa Malfoy shrieks in agony as her twitching body returns to the floor. “Understand betrayal, you stupid girl?”_

_The room is dark, lit up only by candlelight from long white candles lining a mantelpiece. He catches his reflection in the mirror up above it, red eyes piercing the glass to scan over his pale face. His nostrils flare as he stares at the woman throwing herself across the floor, once held in such high esteem for a witch, the pure-blood sobs, tears, and sweat showing up on the marble tiles. His upper lip jumps in disgust as he directs another point of his wand toward her._

_Her body stops flinging around like a ragdoll but her cries only continue. Nagini slithers around Narcissa who lays petrified on her back, glassy eyes staring up at the ceiling in horror. Movement in the corner of the room reminds him of the other woman’s presence._

_Bellatrix, whom he once thought of as perhaps his most loyal subject, he now found to be just another disappointment. Her usual wildness subdued as she kneels next to her sister to take her pulse._

_“My lord, her body may not be able to take much more of this.” She said in a clipped tone. She helped the younger woman into a sitting position, their hands clutching each other against the marble floor._ **_Sentiment_ ** _, he thought with a sneer. The rage boiling in his blood is the only warmth inside of his entire cold figure, he trembles from holding back what he wants to unleash on these two pathetic siblings. “My lord, please my sister knew not what she was doing. She was coerced!”_

_“I care not for her reasoning! I care about the boy, how could he possibly have escaped you?” He snarls as he crossed the room. Nagini slithers at his heel brushing against his cape._

_Bellatrix ducks her head. “We were ambushed! If not for the daughter of my mudblood-loving sister I would have stopped them,_ **I** _would have-“_

_“Silence, Bellatrix.” He cut her off casting a spell that made the sound get stuck in her throat. Her mouth closes with a silent pop. Narcissa Malfoy flinches as he grows nearer, her dark brown hair pulled over the blonde is still perfectly in place regardless of the torment she had been through, the sweat on the brow, and the rough state of the rest of her appearance. There still shone some kind of resolution in her eye, one that he so dearly wanted to stamp out. She wisely averted her gaze. “And you? Do you let your sister do your begging for you?”_

_A muscle in her face ticks and she looks up, steeling her gaze as she slowly made eye contact. “No, my lord.”_

_“Then speak as I will not ask twice.” His tone quivers with restraint, pointing at the woman with a long-clawed finger._

_“My son was kidnapped by the Order. He was taken-“_

_“After he betrayed our information to the enemy!” He roared, shaking violently. His spit flies out and lands on the woman’s cheek. She bows her head but does not lift a hand to wipe it off her face, perhaps not having the strength. This satiates him just enough that when Bellatrix begins speaking again he doesn’t kill her instantly._

_“My master, we are at your mercy. Our family has failed you too many times, yes, I agree. So grant me the chance to get the boy back! We can punish him for his traitorous ways and in doing so hopefully restore some honor to his remaining_ **_faithful_ ** _relatives._ **_We_ ** _are your faithful servants, my lord.” By the time she is done with her speech her chest rises and falls with labored breaths._

_Voldemort stares down at her with an unimpressed scowl on his face. “No, Bellatrix. You will find him and you will lead the search but she-“ He gestures widely at Narcissa. “She will pay for her part in this.”_

_The two sisters shudder beneath his piercing look. Bellatrix grips Narcissa’s shoulder and climbs to her feet. “My lord, what will become of her?”_

_“She will be what mothers often are best at, bait to draw out her son.” He said coldly. “Now Bellatrix, step aside. I will punish her for her belligerence!”_

_Suddenly perspectives change._

_Narcissa is staring up at Voldemort, heart racing as her older sister glances over her shoulder at her. Familiar eyes sliding away from hers, she stepped out of the dark lord’s way._

_The snake-like man towers over her and everything in her wants to crumble but she holds herself upright until the last second. The pain is blinding, daggers along her skin, her internal organs felt like they were bursting into flames. Her body hits the floor but she hardly feels it, she does feel her head crack against the marble. A scream tears itself from her throat and she screams until her voice is hoarse, she screams and she didn’t_ _stop._

* * *

Harry erupted out of the sleeping bag, a scream locked in his throat, heart pounding as his eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden light.

“Harry, mate, are you alright?” Ron said questioningly. His freckled face was the first that he could make out when the light finished filtering through his lashes. When he could see clearly again he realized all of his friends were already awake. He could feel several pairs of eyes on him and he flushed under the attention, knowing he was soaked in sweat and had surely been screaming like a loon earlier.

“I’m fine.” He gritted through his teeth, voice tinged with embarrassment. He softened as he looked around the room, his heart also slowing to a normal pace. “How long have you all been awake?”

“Not long,” Hermione said graciously even though he noticed she was already dressed in a new pair of clothes and her curly hair tided up from the previous night. It seems everyone had changed into different clothes than the ones they had gone to bed in. She saw the expression on his face and passed him a neatly folded set of clothes which he took. “These are for you. Mrs. Weasley knew a spell and she was in here this morning.

“Don’t expect them to be the right size though.” Fred chuckled when he saw Harry eyeing them curiously. “Mum’s not particularly great at guessing our sizes.”

Harry could see that. Hermione was drowning in a light pink jumper and George’s sweater seemed to be a little tight because he kept pulling the collar away from his neck.

“Did your dad ever arrive last night?” He asked in their general direction, turning away from them, he pulled his shirt off over his head and tugged on the new one. It was light blue and stripped, a little big on him but it’s not as bad as having to deal with wearing Dudley’s old clothes. He changed into the new pants next and he faced them as he was redoing his belt.

“Mum said he would be here soon but she’s said that every hour since we woke up.” Ginny paced toward the window, pulling the curtain aside and peeking outside. “I’m beginning to think-“

“I’m sure he’ll get here soon, Ginny.” George attempted to reassure her. “You know dad, the misuse of muggle artifacts administration can’t stand to be without him for less than a minute. He’s probably just having a hard time getting away.”

“He’s been gone all night.” Ginny mumbled still staring longingly through the glass. Harry glanced from her to his best friend wondering if he’s feeling the same anxiousness that seemed to have settled over all of the Weasley children. Ron didn’t meet his eyes, his ears are tinged pink and he fiddled with his wand in his lap as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Harry didn’t doubt it for a second, he knew Ron too well to think he wasn’t just as worried about Mr. Weasley as Ginny was. He’s only been trying to hide it better.

For a moment, he wanted to pull Ron aside, alone so he could reassure him about his dad’s safety and perhaps, even confide in him about what happened between him and Malfoy last night.

There’s a gentle knock on the door before he had a chance to act and the urge rushed out of him as quickly as it had come. Harry swallowed, averting his gaze. He’s thankful really, as good as he and Ron get on he wasn’t sure how he could explain the situation he’d gotten himself into with their school nemesis when he shouldn’t have been anywhere near him last night in the first place. On the other hand, he knew how Ron would feel about being left out of his plans and it wasn't something he was looking forward to getting into.

The creaky hinges on the door gave way and behind the door appeared a red-haired man whose freckled face split into a wide smile at the sight of his children. “There they are!”

Mr. Weasley had to stoop low to keep from hitting the top of the door frame with his forehead. As he crossed the threshold Ginny threw her arms around him. “Dad!”

He beamed, hugging his daughter close with one arm. His other quite occupied, Mrs. Weasley followed her husband in, and Harry noticed their linked fingers and the wedding bands gleaming within each other’s grasp.

It’s a lovely sight, Harry couldn’t be happier for them. He watched the relief wash over the room as the Weasley were reunited with their father. In a moment or two, it became hard for him to watch though, painful, and it settled somewhere in the pit of his stomach like he’s swallowed something rotten.

He had to turn away briefly as they were all hugging and catching up merrily. He stared past Hermione despite her attempts to catch his eye and watched the water droplets slide down the glass pane in the tall window behind her. He tried desperately not to think about Sirius. As always, it’s next to impossible to put his godfather out of his mind. It haunted him, all of it, the possibilities of what could have been, the fantasies of a reunion with Sirius that would never come to pass. It ate him up inside and he stayed silent as it did so, what could he say? How could he ever speak any of this out loud?

“Ah, Harry! Good to see you!” Mr. Weasley clamped a hand down over his shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts.

He’s quick to paste a smile on his face. “You too, Mr. Weasley. Were you held up at the Ministry?”

Mr. Weasley snorted. “Held up by Dumbledore is more like it. I just got out of the longest meeting of my life, learning from Albus what’s going on and what his plans are from here.”

A thrill ran through Harry at the prospect of finally understanding what was happening to them but it was quickly put out by Mrs. Weasley who gripped her husband’s arm in warning. “Arthur, you know we aren’t supposed to say anything yet. You’ll listen to Albus like the rest of us. It’s important.”

Mr. Weasley’s eyes twinkled mischievously and he winked at him good-naturedly so that Harry had to crack a genuine smile. “Yes, Molly, dear.”

“Don’t Molly, dear, me.” Mrs. Weasley scolded, sounding more playful than upset. “Who was it who didn’t get Tonk’s message because he was too busy uncharming muggle water fountains?”

Mr. Weasley blushed all the way up to his hairline. “They were spewing out slime, Molly! And another one was dispensing blood; it was giving all of the muggles a heart attack.”

“As it is, it’s not very funny that you were playing with slime while your _family_ was worried sick about you.” She told him, leading him in her wake back toward the door. Mr. Weasley seemed shy of a reply because he stammered and nodded as if agreeing, throwing his best-winning smile back at his children.

Ron looked incredulously at Harry as his parents continued talking at each other. “Well, dad’s back then.”

Harry nodded, mildly amused. “Sure is.”

They both watched the couple’s retreating figures until Mrs. Weasley, possibly sensing their eyes on her back, turned around and gestured for them to follow. “Breakfast is in five, I expect help setting the table.”

Harry’s stomach growled and he eagerly followed the others out of the room and into the hallway he’d been in the night before. He overheard Fred saying to George “There’s a kitchen, eh? How big is the place?”

Harry took in his surroundings now that he could see them more clearly, with the daylight spilling in past large maroon curtains the hall inspires a much different feeling in him. Instead of making his heart race, it reminded him of the ones that hang around the four posters in the Gryffindor common room.

He glanced wearily at up the staircase as they passed it, feeling an awful amount that he was carrying around some kind of secret. Only he, out of his friends, knew who slept in the third room on the second floor.

They crossed into a magnificent looking kitchen and these troublesome thoughts temporarily slipped his mind once more when the smell of food filled his nostrils. He’s handed a stack of plates and as he’s placing them around the table he noticed an already made-up plate of food sitting on the blue-white checkered counter. Heaping piles of eggs, sausages, mandarin oranges, and waffles shaped like sticks, are all crammed onto a ceramic silverware dish. Mrs. Weasley plucked it off of the counter and placed it onto a small serving tray. She carried it out of the room without saying anything to anyone. Harry took his seat as she passed him and he craned his neck to watch her disappear up the stairs.

“Where’s she going?” Ron asked around a mouthful of eggs. He’d already scooped a little of everything onto the plate Harry had put before him.

Mr. Weasley glanced at his youngest son, tucking a napkin into the collar of his shirt “Off to mind some business, perhaps we can all mind our own, shall we?” He dug his fork into a sausage and started chewing away cheerfully. Ron shrugged non-committed and wolfed down some bites of his waffles.

Harry slowly dished a scoop of eggs onto his plate; a waffle joined it, and a couple of sausages. He wasn’t very hungry anymore but he stabbed a few eggs and began chewing mechanically anyway He stared enviously at Ron who’s appetite wasn’t affected in the slightest by what Harry knew and he didn’t.

For him that morning, Mrs. Weasley’s cooking had never tasted plainer.

* * *

Every adult Harry interacted with during the day were tight-lipped and secretive. Even with Fred or George trying to catch any one of them off guard none would say anything to allude to what was going on. Nothing, even, to suggest how long they would be stuck here.

Mrs. Weasley had kept them very busy in the beginning, putting them up to doing what seemed like a decade’s worth of chores all at once. The old house looked to have frankly, fallen to ruins, some rooms were outright disgusting and neglected.

Hermione had pointed out, after three hours of her scrubbing at a yellowed bathroom floor while Harry scraped furiously at something growing in the bathtub. “Evidently, they’re trying to keep us busy but I wonder if we’ll be staying here for long? Why else would they go through the trouble of having us clean up the place?”

“We can’t be. Term starts in a week, Hermione.“ Harry told her, digging into the green slimy material stuck to the tub wall with the flat-edged tool he’d been given by Mr. Weasley. “We’ll be at Hogwarts in no time.”

“Will we?” She asked curiously. Harry raised his eyebrow at her after he successfully dislodged a chunk of the gross spot from the tub. She went on hastily. “I only mean it seems like there is something weird going on, above-average weird even for us, something the Order and Ron’s parents have decided they can’t tell us for now. Whatever it is it must be a big deal, big enough to put us here in the first place.”

“Big enough to keep us all here?” Harry found himself asking as he began to understand what Hermione was hinting at. He craned forward to peer out of the door, making sure Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were out of earshot. He saw nothing but Ron miserably sweeping up a thick layer of dust a couple of feet away so he turned back to Hermione. “What do you think it could be?”

She didn’t answer for a long time; she turned away and began scrubbing at the floor again.

“ _Hermione._ ”

She wrung the washcloth in her hand and looked up at him. “I don’t know but it has something to do with Malfoy and I bet he probably does. You’ve guessed so too, Harry, I saw you sneak out last night.”

“I thought you were asleep.” Harry said, face growing hot. He climbed out of the tub and sat on the outside of it, tossing his tool into the sink.

Hermione shrugged meekly, finally putting down the stained up washcloth. “I was. I woke up.”

He ran a hand over his sweaty face. She was still watching him when he opened his eyes again so he replied a bit defensively. “I couldn’t help it; I just had to see him for myself! I figured, well it’s like you said, he’s the only one who might know what caused this.”

And now Harry believed this to be true more than ever. After his nightmare last night involving Voldemort and Malfoy’s mother, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that if he could get Malfoy to talk he’d be able to tell him everything. Whatever was going on the other boy was at the epicenter of it all and it was driving Harry _crazy_.

“I understand, Harry.”

“No, Hermione, you don’t understand. I needed to figure out what was going on because none of the others will tell us; they’re still treating us like children.” Harry said earnestly, he knew he was probably frowning now.

“We are children, Harry-”

“We’re _not_.” He cut her off, shaking his head. He rushed on afraid that if he didn’t get it out now it would come out during the worst of circumstances. “We’re just not. Especially, not after what happened last year.”

Hermione nodded, realization and sympathy shone in her eyes. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Harry shrugged uncomfortably. Her eyes wandered up to the ceiling past him and he wondered if she was thinking about Sirius. He wondered if any of them ever thought about it as much as he did, which had become every waking moment recently.

Eventually, she tilted her head toward him eagerly and inquired. “During your visit with Malfoy, did you manage to find anything out?”

Harry swallowed hard. He hadn’t been counting on telling Hermione or anyone else for that matter about his conversation (if it could be called that) with Malfoy or what he’d seen. It seemed wrong now to keep it from her.

“I didn’t find out much,” Harry admitted. “I confronted him but… he’s Malfoy, he wasn’t exactly in a talkative mood. We spoke in circles and he kept insulting me until-”

He cut himself off. Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Until?”

Harry sighed deeply; he stared down at his fingernails, picking the dirt out of his cuticles. “I drew my wand.”

Hermione’s brow furrowed, mouth opening. She joins him on the edge of the tub. “You didn’t you jinx him, did you?”

“I might as well have. He was _terrified_. I can’t explain it but he looked more afraid than I’ve ever seen him.” He elaborated under Hermione’s scrutinizing gaze. He shrugged his shoulders, hunching over himself in shame. “And he wasn’t fully healed, he was wearing a cast, and I spotted some bandages that disappeared under his clothes. I don’t understand, why wouldn’t they finish healing him with magic?”

Harry glanced hopefully at her but she seemed to be just as lost as he was. She chewed her lip, staring distantly out of the open bathroom door. Harry stared too, both of them watching as Fred grinning impishly, swung a shaggy mop around nearly missing the back of Ron’s head before George blocked it with his own long-haired mop and the two go on sword fighting.

“It’s odd, I’ll give you that.” Hermione said eventually. “It feels like we keep ending up with more unanswered questions instead of less.”

It’s a long time before either of them said anything else; they sat and soaked up the silence in the small grimy bathroom, long enough for Ron to peek in curiously and ask them if they were alright. After a while, Mr. Weasley comes to collect them for lunch.

* * *

The desire comes in waves like clockwork. The moment the sun goes down, no more golden light coloring the room as Fred and George play a game of exploding snap to entertain them, Harry’s thinking about it in the back of his mind. He wouldn’t admit it if asked but he’s already plotting to creep back up to that damn room as soon as the others are asleep.

He _knows_ it’s a bad idea. He doesn’t need Hermione to tell him. That hadn’t stopped her from trying when she caught the look on his face after they’d retired from their game and had started getting ready for bed.

“Harry, don’t.” She’d whispered pleadingly. “You’ll be in serious trouble if you’re caught. He’ll tell someone. I’m surprised he hasn’t already.”

Harry had tried his best to look like he didn’t know what she was talking about as he nestled into his sleeping bag. The light flickered off and he had waited patiently for everyone’s breathing to steady. For at least half an hour Ginny stayed up reading by the light of the moon and streetlamps which shone nearby. He’d caught a glimpse of the small book with a lovely velvet cover whenever she had found it earlier, they had been cleaning, and it seemed like an old poetry book. She stowed it under her pillow and fell asleep before Ron’s usual snoring picked up another hour later.

A little after that Fred and George’s quiet chatter faded away too. Harry kept his eyes squeezed firmly shut just in case one of the others was still awake. As always, it was near impossible for him to tell if Hermione was asleep but he had already rationalized that there was no point in trying to sneak past her anyway. She already knew and he didn’t think she was desperate enough to stop him from going.

He crept out of the room about thirty minutes later. Unable to quell his anticipation he climbs the stairs two at a time, skipping the creaky fourth step on his way up.

The second floor is brighter tonight, lit up more by moonlight than the night before because someone had drawn the curtains open and a silvery glow spilled over the carpet and walls. The trees outside tapped twig fingers along the window pane, they cast eerie shadows that stretch over the dark wallpaper and cause ominous silhouettes to appear in his peripheral vision.

Harry peeks down the hall but neither of the first two rooms seems occupied so he determinedly ambles over to the third, very, open door. His bravado doesn’t stick around and he stops dead in the doorway for the second time in two days.

Sitting up with his back against the headboard of the bed, his broken arm still in a cast and hanging in a sling across his chest, was Malfoy. Malfoy doesn’t notice him, his expression unguarded, his face glitters with wetness, and a faraway look haunts his features as he stares at the wall in front of him.

Harry, uncomfortable and at a loss, silently shifts his weight from one leg to the other. From the way, Malfoy reacts he might have stomped as loudly as possible because his head jerks up as if he's been shot. His sparkling eyes instantly cloud over with anger when he spots Harry.

“You!” He hisses roughly, voice cracking. He turns his head away, stuffing it into his elbow, and he reappears with dry bloodshot eyes. “I can’t believe this. What I wouldn’t give for some _normal_ company.”

“Oh, so you get a lot of that at home, do you?” Harry can’t help replying as he reluctantly entered the other boy’s room. _In for a penny,_ he reminds himself. Malfoy doesn’t find him funny and he narrows his storm-cloud eyes.

“Very funny, Potter.”

“Look,” Harry says, exasperated already. “I didn’t come here to fight.”

Malfoy scoffed. “That’s a new one then. Don’t strain yourself, what did you come here for? I already told you I’m not going to tell you _anything_.”

“Malfoy.” Harry gritted through his teeth, wanting to shut the other boy up before he irritates him enough that he abandons this entirely. Malfoy raises an eyebrow, sharply scowling at him. “I came to apologize, alright?”

Confusion etched itself into Malfoy’s face, which is better than the scowl but then his lips twitch into the tiniest of smirks. Interestingly enough, it doesn't reach his eyes. Harry still kind of wants to take it back before he never hears the end of it but his guilt manages to be a great incentive not to. “This should be good.”

“Do you have to be such a dick?” Harry asked, not expecting a serious reply. He crosses the room and slides down the wall to sit on the carpeted floor to the left of Malfoy’s bed. Malfoy watches him, shrugging with one shoulder, and surprisingly he doesn’t remark about Harry’s movements. Harry fiddled with his fingers, knees drawn up to his chest, and he stayed quiet for a second trying to find the right words. “I wasn’t going to hex you, you know? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have drawn my wand. I went too far.”

The small smirk drops and any sign of expression is wiped from Malfoy’s face. It’s just gone. Malfoy is completely unreadable; his mouth presses into a flat line and a mask of indifference is quickly glued on.

“Your chivalry is disgusting, Potter.” Draco said tonelessly. His gaze flicks up to the ceiling, adding more venomously. “I don’t want your stinking apology and I don’t want your _fucking_ pity.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “Who said anything about pity? You’re still an asshole and I still intend to figure out what part you play in this. But I,”

He bit down on the sharp _unlike you_ that gets lodged in his throat. “-Can admit when I screw up and I’d very much like to be able to sleep at night.”

Malfoy scoffed, still not looking at him. “Well don’t let me interfere with your perfect little dreams, Potter.”

Harry rolled his eyes, deciding to take in his surroundings instead of struggling to find a response to Malfoy’s condescension. All of the lamps from the night before unwaveringly cast a bright glow across the room. It reflected off of the few framed paintings that hung on the walls. They were non-magical paintings judging from the frozen depictions of women jovially playing harps and other instruments.

The stack of plates on the nightstand next to Malfoy’s bed catches Harry’s attention next and upon closer inspection, he notices not one of them has been touched. The generous helpings of eggs, sausages, fruit, and waffles look exactly as they had earlier when he’d watched Mrs. Weasley carry them upstairs this morning. The two other plates sitting next to it were both full of lunch and dinner foods from today, each as untouched as the first.

He glanced up at Malfoy, inspecting him anew. The other boy is still very pale, dark circles blooming under his eyes, and his skin doesn’t have its usual healthy glow. Malfoy must sense him looking because it’s finally enough to drag his gaze away from the ceiling. “ _Stop_ it.”

Harry swiftly looked away. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Whatever.” Malfoy said with some semblance of his normal self. He glared at Harry. “I’d like to be left alone now if you don’t mind, or I suppose you can keep being creepy and staring. Whatever floats your boat, Potter.”

Embarrassment surged in him and he couldn't think of a good reason to refuse. He wanted to press Malfoy for answers but something about him seems fragile and he’s afraid to push him. _Another night_ , Harry decided while climbing to his feet. He kind of stopped once he was towering there as if he’d run out of steam, but really, he’d just recalled his nightmare from last night. He’s unsure if he should tell the other boy what he had seen. _Of course, you should it’s his mum._ The unreasonable part of him that likes to make everything difficult emphasized.

He chewed the inside of his mouth, wondering what he could even say to explain the ghastly scene he’d dreamt. Voldemort had been torturing the young woman, mocking her, as she thrashed about in agony, and this didn’t seem like the kind of thing any preparation would help him be able to say out loud.

He cleared his throat. “Draco…”

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at Harry. “What?”

“Don’t ask me how, alright, I can’t explain.” Harry prefaced, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “I saw your mum last night. I saw her when I was asleep and it wasn’t… pretty. Voldemort has her and he’s angry with her about something, he was hurting her because of it. I don’t know what it was over, which is why it’s so frustrating and I just- I thought you should know.” He finished lamely and Malfoy who has been watching him is steadily growing paler all the while. Harry wouldn’t have thought it possible if he wasn’t seeing it in real-time.

“How could you possibly know that?” Malfoy hissed, chin trembling as he spoke.

“I told you I can’t explain,” Harry said exhaustedly, running a hand over his face. “It just happens sometimes.”

“What, you watching other people’s mothers get tortured?” His voice wobbled near the end of the sentence. He clenched and unclenched his jaw. “Is that some kind of habit of yours, a weird fixation, maybe?”

“Damn it, Malfoy.” Harry gritted out, anger surging through him. “I don’t know why I even bother.”

He starts to head for the door in a rush, his face burning as if it was on fire.

“Potter, wait!” Malfoy called after him and he thought about continuing down the hall without a second glance behind him but he didn’t. He halted near the door against his better judgment. He turned around impatiently. Malfoy was having a hard time meeting his eyes again when he asked. “Was she- was she alive when you last saw her? Before you woke up?”

Harry’s posture softened and he nodded, surprised at the relief that coursed through Malfoy’s features. Surprised wasn’t the right word, it wasn’t that Harry didn’t think he cared about his mother, but he’d never thought Malfoy would ever let it slip that he did. “She was when I saw her last. I don’t think he’s going to kill her; he wants to use her as bait. She wouldn’t be any good at that if she were dead.”

He knew this information wasn’t easy to hear and honestly, he wasn’t sure if it would provide any relief at all considering the alternative circumstances Narcissa Malfoy may be suffering through. _At least she is alive_ , Harry thought logically. _At least she has a chance_ . _My mum didn’t._

Malfoy ducked his head as if soaking this in. When he finally did look up his grey eyes flashed wetly in Harry’s direction and away again just as fast. He croaked out a rugged and very Un-Malfoy like “Alright.”

Harry stood in the doorway a few seconds longer, thinking that he really should say something but no words possible to make a difference come to mind. He doubted Malfoy would want to hear a word out of him either way so eventually, sighing deeply, he turned to go. “Goodnight, Malfoy.”

* * *

The next few days are a blur for Harry. Each day almost the same as the one before it, three meals a day, in bed strictly by 10:00, and even when Order members stopped by they avoided the six of them like the plague. Not that Harry could blame them after the treatment Fred and George kept putting them through whenever they did pop in for a quick hello.

On the second day of their stay there, Remus and Tonk’s had brought their things over from the Burrow. A briefcase was filled up for each one of them and while Remus had dragged Ginny’s trunk into the room, Tonk’s had winked in their direction and explained how she had to use expanding charms on some of them.

“You have way too much stuff!” She’d teased, groaning under the weight of Harry’s trunk before she dumped it on his sleeping bag.

Much to his relief, Hedwig had also appeared that day, rapping on the window with her beak until he’d rushed over to let her in. Pidwidgeon and Erol swooped faithfully into the room after his snowy white owl. Erol crashed into a tired heap on the closet sofa and Pig nestled himself close to Ron’s ear as if he had missed him dearly. Hedwig allowed Harry to pet her feathers for a while but it was clear that she wanted to hunt, perhaps being burdened by Pig and Erol on her journey had kept her from it, because she took off out of the window a couple of minutes later.

Hermione was just glad that she had left Crookshanks with her parents before going to the Weasley’s this summer. She was meant to meet up with them in Diagon Alley before the beginning of term to say goodbye and retrieve him but their plans had been very abruptly changed.

They spent the rest of the second day exploring the rooms around the place that Mrs. Weasley hadn’t encouraged them to clean just yet. Maybe, because each one was weirder than the last and she hadn’t thought them worth the effort.

“Who needs a room entirely full of tea-pots?” Ginny asked incredibly, gesturing at one of the uglier ones. It was bright orange with a cracked maple leaf design in its center. She picked it up and mimed spilling tea much to Ron’s amusement. He snorted, picking up a green one for himself and inspecting the inside.

Harry couldn’t help but agree with Ginny. No one needed this many tea-pots. The room was covered with dust so thick it made his nose twitch and run wildly. The four walls were lined with display cases of dozens of different style tea-pots and tiny china glass cups. The middle of the room was empty minus a small oak table which was, as he should have guessed, covered to the max with tea-pots.

“This is insane.” Harry walked over to one of the display cases, opening it slowly. The hinges complained as he tugged it open and his fingers turned grey from the slightest touch of the door. Pinks, blues, all shades of green, stared back at him. Each pot is shaped slightly differently, tall thin ones, short fat ones, misshapen ones that he could never imagine being used to serve tea in.

“What kind of a whack job lived here, do you think?” Ron asked.

“I heard your mum say that this house belonged to someone in the Order before he gave it up so it could be used as a safe house.” Hermione said coming up beside Harry to look in the display case.

“Who?”

“Daedalus Diggle, he inherited this place from his parents after they died.” She replied picking up a tiny cup from an iridescent tea set, all emblazoned with little silver stars. She wiped the surface of it with her sleeve until it gleamed, under all that dust, it was quite pretty.

“Couldn’t be bothered to clean up all of their odd collections, eh?” George mused as he strolled over to the one spot of the walls that is clear other than a large painting in a golden frame hanging a few inches above their heads. “Hey, Fred, you should come and get a look at this.”

Harry’s curiosity piqued and he joins the others around the strange looking painting. Now that he was seeing it up close, it is definitely the most abnormal thing in the room which is saying a lot. It seemed like an oil painting, rich colors, and impossibly smooth brush strokes blending into the figure of a young man sitting atop a throne. His hair was platinum, slicked back royally, and he wore robes that shined on the canvas like dark emeralds. He had an expression of disgust on his face, a slight curve of his lip, and a judgmental lilt to his brow. His hand stretched for a shiny brass goblet but the painting depicted him as never reaching it.

“Looks kind of like Malfoy doesn’t it?” Ron probed, pointing at the painting. “He’s got the same oily smile, the pompous prick.”

Harry couldn’t see much of resemblance but had no reason to correct him either. His mind wandered back to the night before and the way Malfoy’s eyes had glimmered in the dim light. The proud young man in the painting may have reminded him of Malfoy at one point but now seeing it only emphasized the stark differences in Malfoy’s appearance and personality. In Harry’s mind, there was something distinctly off about the boy he’d spoken with last night and unalike to the Malfoy he had known growing up.

There wasn’t any self-righteous pride left in that brightly lit and desolate room he had visited in the dead of night. There had been rage, disgust, prejudice, he was still one of the biggest assholes Harry had ever known, and he had reacted with the same emotions Harry constantly seemed to summon in Malfoy but he was _duller_. The blonde was emptier almost, mechanically reacting how he usually would with spit-fire and vengeance except it seemed more forced now. It was like he no longer gained any pleasure from it, which was strange because the Malfoy he knew loved making other people's lives a living hell.

“Where is that slimy git anyhow?” Fred asked, drawing him out of his tangled web of thoughts. “Isn’t he supposed to be around here somewhere?”

Harry side-eyed Hermione instinctively, she met his gaze as they exchanged a quick knowing look. He broke it off before Ron or the others could notice. Fred curiously looked at each of them in turn and Harry tried his best to look inconspicuous.

“That’s a good question.” Ron agreed. “The only place we haven’t been in is upstairs. Well, and the basement but I doubt they’re keeping him in there, not that I’d blame them.”

George nodded thoughtfully, a mischievous look crossing his face. “I think it’s time we gave ourselves a little look-see.”

* * *

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Ginny asked for the third time, running her hand over her face. “This is a stupid plan.”

“Yee of little faith!” Fred cried, arranging in his hand two small double-sided taffies. Each was purple on one end and orange on the other. He held them out so that they could see since they were already crowded around him in the otherwise empty dining room. They spoke in hushed tones because Mr. Weasley was on the other side of the wall in the sitting room, reading an article of the daily prophet while Mrs. Weasley knitted beside him. “We just need someone to take one for the team.”

“You do it!” Ron said accusingly. “This was your idea.”

“Fine.” He agreed, separating the taffies and slipping the spare one into his pocket. “I’ve taken it before anyway. Remember when we had to test our products out for ourselves? I’ll eat the Puking pastille and when I start vomiting everywhere you get up those stairs and find yourself our slippery serpent. Good plan?”

Harry mildly disagreed but couldn’t imagine saying so when the others, even Ginny, were begrudgingly ready to go along with it.

“It’s brilliant.” George replied to his twin. He had helped him come up with the plan in the first place.

“Hold on a minute,” Hermione’s lips curled downward doubtfully. “Won’t your mum be suspicious if it’s you? She knows what you two do for a living and she’s going to wonder if you’ve ingested a Weasley Wizard Wheezies product.”

Fred frowned and then shrugged nonchalantly. “Hey, vomit is vomit. When there’s puke going everywhere it doesn’t tend to matter how and why it got there. They’ll be distracted long enough for you to get up there and get gone, that’s what matters!”

“He’s right,” Harry admitted and Ron who is excited to be doing something other than cleaning pumped his fist in the air. “They’ll be a little more than preoccupied.”

He had seen the Puking Pastilles in action last year and he wasn’t thrilled to witness another go around but he couldn’t deny how well suited they would be for a diversion.

“Let’s do this.” Ron said grinning nervously.

Fred winked and popped half of the pastille into his mouth. He chewed with vigor, swallowed, and strode into the sitting room with a broad smile plastered on his face. “Mum, Dad, just the two people I wanted to see! You know, I was thinking-”

There was a pause, soft retching noises, and a stomach-lurching SPLASH followed. Harry heard Mrs. Weasley shriek in surprise and that’s when the chaos began. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's shouts overlapped as they tried to figure out what was the matter with their son and were drowned out by even louder retching between the sound of vomit landing on different surfaces.

George locked eyes with him. “We better do it now. I don’t know how long Fred can hold out from eating the other half.”

With George in the lead and Ginny tailing him, they hurried up the stairs in a small cluster. Hermione and Harry managed to bring up the rear, exchanging anxious looks. Ron was only a couple of steps ahead of them. Nervous tension had been steadily growing in his chest but as they reached the hallway it peaked and he was sure his heart must have been beating loudly enough for them all to hear.

All three of the doors are open today. They stopped at the first one but after peaking inside it was obvious that it didn’t belong to Malfoy because there was a large queen-sized bed in the center of the room and two off-white-colored trunks beside a nightstand.\

“Those must belong to your parents.” Hermione pointed out. “I was wondering where they slept.”

The second room, as Harry already knew, was the one where the Order had held a meeting during their first night there. It was home to a long mahogany table in the center it was dressed with a deep blue runner across the entire length of it. There were at least a dozen chairs pulled up around the table and a ceiling lamp lit up the space.

They passed by this one as well and got even closer to the room that Malfoy was staying in. Harry saw the excitement growing on his friends' faces and if he had not already had two encounters with the boy he may have felt the same way but right now all he felt was a steadily growing sense of dread. _What if Malfoy spilled the beans and he had to deal with them questioning him about how he had left them out of his plans and not even mentioned them afterward? What if Malfoy lost his shit when the six of them appeared outside his bedroom and alerted Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?_ There were a hundred possibilities that ran wild in his mind but none of them could have prepared him for when George froze, becoming a solid mass that served in blocking their view of the room.

“What’s going on?” Ron asked irritation colored his tone. George stared mouth agape, lips forming words that didn’t make a sound.

“Madam Pomfrey!” He finally said in a horrified voice. “It’s Madam Pomfrey.”

“What?” Ginny nudged at George’s back trying to get him to move out of the way. “Move over! I want to see.”

George got ahold of himself and he moved to the side so that the rest of them could crowd forward to get a look inside the room.

Harry understood what George had meant at once. In the room _was_ Madam Pomfrey, the school’s head nurse. She was blocking most of Malfoy from sight and with her back turned to them she didn’t notice the company that had descended behind her. She had a blood pressure cuff on Malfoy’s right arm and was merrily squeezing the end of the mechanism causing it to contract around his bicep.

They stood there shell-shocked until she adjusted her stance and Malfoy came further into view. He spotted them and the sour expression on his face deepened. “Weaselbee and the freak parade. As if my day couldn’t get any worse.”

Ron scowled at him. “Shut up, Malfoy.”

Madam Pomfrey frowned, turning around to see the owner of the new voice, and curious to see what her patient was talking about. “Now I don’t know if those words are necessary, Mr. Malfoy.”

“They are.” He spat, glaring daggers at the group of them. Harry noticed Malfoy especially aiming the worst of it at him and he wanted to blend in the back behind Ron, Ginny, and Hermione.

“What are you doing here, Madam Pomfrey?” Ginny asked quickly before she could start on them for having snuck up here. “I didn’t know you did house calls.”

Madam Pomfrey’s mouth pressed into a firm line. “I usually don’t, my dear. These are special circumstances and Headmaster Dumbledore requested my assistance specifically.”

 _Dumbledore!_ George mouthed at Harry with wide eyes.

“This is ridiculous," Malfoy seethed, tugging the blood pressure cuff down his arm and throwing it down on the blankets. "I thought you were supposed to operate under patient confidentiality. These idiots barging in here is the exact opposite of _confidentiality_." 

"Hey, who are you calling idiots?" George demanded, craning over Hermione's shoulder so he could stare Malfoy down. He glared back unintimidated. Madam Pomfrey's patience was drying up judging by the mildly irritated expression that crossed her face as she folded up the cuff and stuffed it into a small leather handbag.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure you'll have the entire school year to insult each other. For the moment, I'm going to have to ask for you to show a teaspoon of respect for my rules and leave my patient alone so he can rest!" She scolded, in a slightly lighter tone than Harry was used to hearing from her whenever some unfortunate soul decided to interrupt the healing process of those under her care. She directed her attention toward Malfoy. "What you need is some peace and quiet. _Try_ to get some sleep and eat _something_."

Malfoy made a face and when Madam Pomfrey's back was turned, as she bent to retrieve her satchel, he flipped them a very prominent middle finger. 

It was a good thing that Ginny had the sense to block the door-way with her arm because it stopped Ron from crossing through it to presumably strangle the Slytherin boy. Still, he made an angry noise in the back of his throat and scowled deeply at Malfoy in promise of retribution if he ever did get his hands on him. 

"We understand, we'll be going now." Hermione said politely. Harry's chest soared with relief and he turned to go voluntarily. 

"We will?" George asked bewilderedly. Ginny sent him a look, already ushering them away now that she took up the caboose of their little train and he had no choice but to move along with them.

Madam Pomfrey followed them out of the door and smoothed her hands down over her apron. Harry couldn't explain why but he had to glance over his shoulder just once before she shut the door behind her. Malfoy had for the most part already dropped the intense glare. Anger still tugged at his features, his shoulders weighed down perpetually by grumpiness, but when their eyes met for a split second before the door closed on them Harry saw a flash of grief in them that he recognized. It was buried beneath a hundred other emotions but visible regardless. The familiarity came from how Harry had risen each morning this summer and when he had gone to look in the mirror he had seen the same kind of affliction swimming in his own green irises. 

He wondered, as he was directed down the stairs, how much he and Malfoy might have in common now that they hadn't before. It was an unpleasant thought and as they reached the bottom of the staircase he tried to shove it far into the outer reaches of his mind hoping he would never have to recall or examine it again. 

"Don't think I won't be mentioning your adventure to your parents." Madam Pomfrey told Ron, George, and Ginny, with a wry smile. "I hope it was worth it, you six." Ron groaned loudly and none of the Weasley's looked thrilled by the prospect of having to enter the sitting room which sounded ominously quiet from the hall. 

Harry figured that the others despite being on the same page as him and Hermione now, unbeknownst to them of course, would have agreed that their trip upstairs hadn't been worth it after all. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying as hard as I can between working my job at an antique shop and my home responsibilities to get this one typed out and ready for posting. The time is finally here! I hoped you found this chapter riveting, please let me know if you did! I could always use a boost of confidence when it comes to my writing. Thank you for reading the third chapter! I'll see you next week hopefully :D
> 
> Pinterest Board for this story: https://www.pinterest.com/tube_socks_are_cool/for-i-came-to-love-an-enemy/  
> I have a Spotify playlist for this story which you can find: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0cAPXKBI0KKzZQLZgjxGZv?si=zlqKvrnqQ5epcLA5cBJX9w


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